


The Path of Least Resistance

by bittlebarnes (monroesherlock)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Anxiety, Arguments, Arranged Marriage, But damn we movin slow, Everything the author remembers from couples counseling, Flashbacks, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mpreg, Not sure how slow yet, Overuse of italics, PTSD, Sexual Assault Mention, Slow Burn, Stress, at least for now, but no sexual assualt, everything the author remembers from family therapy, infidelity (assumed not actual), marrying young, newt scamanders low self esteem, no suitcase, university prof newt, weird timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-05-10 03:40:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14729255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monroesherlock/pseuds/bittlebarnes
Summary: “How old are you?” Percival heard himself ask absently.“19, Mr. Graves.” Was Newt’s tight-lipped answer. He sat down on one of the ornate couches and thanked the house elf who had appeared with a tea set.“You don't have to call me ‘Mr. Graves’. If we're to be married, I imagine you’ll be using my given name quite a bit.”“And are we? To be married I mean?”--After his expulsion from Hogwarts, Newt tries to regain his family's favor by entering an arranged marriage.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been with me awhile and I needed to just post it to get it out of my system. It's always scary joining a new fandom and trying to figure out where you fit. I haven't written in a while so I'm rusty. Give me some time to see if I still know how this works. I'm still trying to figure out where this story's headed.

Percival’s late.

_Again._

Newt doesn't bother with a warming charm for dinner. Percival can heat it himself when he gets home. Honestly, at this point, Newt wouldn't be surprised if Percival didn't show at all. It wouldn't be the first time he’s _forgotten_ to let Newt know that he’ll be late at work.

“Should Wendi be popping by Mr. Graves’s office?” The tiny house elf appears next to him. There’s a note of sympathy in her voice that wasn’t always there in their relationship. Newt suspects she didn’t find him fit enough to join the family she’d served for so long but as Percival’s begun spending more and more time away from them both, he senses a thaw forming in the wall between them.

“No need, Wendi. I’m sure he’ll wander home when he feels like it. We shouldn’t disturb him while he’s at work. The _Director_ has more important things to do than be home in time for dinner.”

They’re coming up on six years of marriage if that’s what you want to call it. They married when Newt was 19, still reeling from his expulsion from Hogwarts and the subsequent damage to his parent’s reputation. It was a lucky match, a godsend for his family really and Newt couldn’t bear to disappoint them again. Between Newt’s marriage into such a prominent American family and his brother’s meteoric rise through the Ministry's ranks, the Scamander family was gradually regaining its clout.

So, he stood still and smiled, kissed his new husband, packed his meager bags, and moved his life to New York. He took a position working at the local university as a Magizoology professor and tried his best to settle into married life.

If that’s what you call this. Even living in the same house, he and Percival have never been close. They share each other's space and sometimes talk about their work, but, nevertheless, exist more as begrudging roommates than as spouses. Newt knows his parents are worried. A divorce would be even more embarrassing than his expulsion and he knows their lack of children is starting to look a certain way. He hears the whispers when he ventures home. _Infertile. Affair._

When Percival doesn’t come home at all that first night, Newt doesn’t worry. He's irritated but not worried. There have been plenty of occasions where Percival’s gotten himself too wrapped up in his work and spent the night in his office He normally chastises Newt for even asking.

_“I wasn’t aware I’d married my nanny,” Percival had chided him, “funny, you don't look like Mrs. Numburg. Shall I have my secretary forward you my itinerary so you know where I am at all times?”_

_“Excuse me for asking for some politeness.”_

After the first two days, Newt is more than annoyed. Percival hasn’t responded to any of his missives. Not even with a dismissive chastisement. After three days, Newt's furious, his notes to Percival’s office returning without even being opened. After four days, he's concerned. After a full week, he's striding into MACUSA headquarters to file a missing person’s report. This is unacceptable, truly.

The Woolworth Building is massive and maze-like. How does anyone who works here get around, Newt wonders? He wanders for about 10 minutes before giving up and stopping in front of a random desk and the tired looking witch seated there.

“Excuse me,” he says, “I'm terribly lost and need to report my husband missing but I'm not sure what desk to do that at. It would be wonderful if things were labeled.”

“Name?” She says in a bored tone.

“Hm? Ah, Newton Scamander.”

“And your husband's name?”

“Percival Graves. I believe he normally works in this building. Perhaps someone’s already filed one? Or perhaps you can tell me if he’s gone on an investigation.”

The woman is openly gawking at him now, her eyes searching his face for any trace of humor.

“Are you-is this a joke?”

“No, I'm quite serious. He’s never been gone this long before,” Newt assures her. Why would he joke about something so sensitive? “He hasn’t been home in a week and I’m highly concerned.”

“Um, let me see what I can do, Mr. Scamander.” She hurries to her feet and leaves him standing there. Newt waits for almost thirty minutes. He tries to resist the urge to pace but being in a place as crowded as the Woolworth building sets his teeth on edge. He longs for his tiny office at the university and the creatures therein.

“Mr. Scamander, I found him!” He hears the witch call after what feels like an hour. There’s Percival, walking towards him in hurried strides. He looks fine, hair perfectly coiffed and no part of him visibly injured at all. He's dressed nicely like always in a well-tailored suit. The coat is new. As is that hideous scorpion pin. He stops in front of Newt, a wolfish smile on his face.

“ _Darling_ ,” he purrs and Newt knows instantly this is not his husband. His smile, his magic, his _eyes_. How could anyone mistake this man for Percival Graves? He and Percival may not be close but he’d never describe his husband as cold. This man, however, he radiates a coldness, a _cruelty_. He keeps his face impassive as the imposter leans in to kiss his cheek.

Newt’s Percival has kissed him exactly once. A chaste thing in the middle of a chapel in front of their families. Newt has never asked for more.

“You didn't say you were visiting. We could have met for lunch instead,” The man wearing Percival’s face says. Newt refuses to meet his searching gaze and wonders if the real Percival is already dead.

“You haven't been home in a few days. I was worried,” He quietly says instead.

“Ah yes. The caseload has been heavy. Quite a few dark wizards running amuck,” Not-Percival says, “I’ve been sleeping in the office so as not to disturb you.”

Newts grants him a small smile as he reaches into his pocket for his wand. This simply can’t go on. They've attracted a small crowd of people, all anxious to meet their boss’s mysterious spouse.

“ _Revelio_ ,” Newt whispers and chaos breaks out. Percival’s face melts away to reveal a furious Gellert Grindelwald and Newt is sure Percival is dead.

“You'll have to excuse the confusion,” he laughs, his voice sickeningly hollow, “dear Percy never mentioned you. I wasn't at all prepared to meet the _wife_. A shame. I would’ve loved to shack up with one as pretty as you.”

Newt wants to kill him.

\--

They find Percival in his office of all places after a lengthy search. He was stuffed into an antique teapot on the highest shelf. It was a difficult curse, they tell him, but they managed to break it.

Percival about looks as bad as Newt’s ever seen him. He's been cut up before but never like this. He's bruised all over and thinner than a twig. Grindelwald must have been starving him. The mediwitch looks up when Newt walks in and conjures a seat for him.

“He's resting now. We're healing what we can and preparing his body to do the rest. We'll have him back in working order soon, Mr. Graves. I’m sure you want to get him home.” Newt doesn't correct her, just nods and sits down next to the bed to wait.

Employees shuffle in and out always looking at Newt like he's some sort of freak of nature. They can’t believe he exists, they say. Percival’s _married_ ? And how in the world did he land an _Omega_?

“I never knew he was married,” one Omegan woman whispers to him, “I feel like I should apologize for trying to poach your man.”

 _She still could_ , Newt thinks to himself. She's pretty, a delicate omega he's sure Percival’s parents would have preferred. He pictures his husband, flirting with women at work. Keeping them company on those long nights he's away on _business_.

He tries not to feel bitter about it. Theirs is a marriage of convenience after all. He gets to his feet and decides to head back to the university. Percival’s safe. Moping will do him no good. Percival probably wouldn’t appreciate him lurking.

Newt’s taking a nap at home when he gets word that Percival’s finally awake. He dresses quickly and apparates back to the Woolworth building. When he reaches the medical ward, he sees that Percival is sitting up on his own, whispering quietly to the woman to which Newt reported him missing all those days ago. Goldstein, his mind supplies. She’d looked so shocked to see him that day. She's awfully pretty and uncomfortably comfortable in Percival’s space in a way Newt doesn’t think he’ll ever be.

They both look up when Newt walks in, the woman quietly shuffling away. She nods to Newt on her way out but doesn’t speak. He tries not to be offended as he turns to face his husband.

“Percival,” He says quietly.

“Newt,” Percival replies. His left arm is still in a sling but the bruise on his cheek has finally started to yellow. Overall he does look better. He’s alive at least and frankly, that’s more than Newt hoped for.

“It's really quite rude not to tell me when you're going to be late. Wendi puts quite a bit of work into a place setting for you,” Newt finally says, his tone placid. He settles into the seat next to Percival’s bed and crosses his legs.

“Yes. You've said so before.” Percival watches him with careful eyes. He keeps his tone measured like he doesn’t know where Newt’s headed.

“I assume it won't happen again?”

Percival grants him a rueful smile. “No. It won't,” he says.

He carefully avoids focusing on Percival’s shaking hands and instead says, “I'm glad you're safe,” in a quiet voice.

Percival lets out an exhausted sigh. _He looks so much older,_ Newt thinks to himself. He’s always found Percival quite handsome, never looking quite his age but today, today Newt sees every one of those years bearing down on him.

“It's my understanding that that's thanks to you,” Percival says. “My being safe and all.”

“I should have come in sooner. The day after you didn’t come home.”

“Why would you?” Percival snorts. Why would he indeed? Percival’s never invited him into his workspace. His worries have always been met with annoyance or irritation.

“Well, in any case, I'm glad you're alright.” Newt tries to shake the _what if_ ’s from his mind. Percival is fine and Grindelwald’s headed to prison. It could have been so much worse but it _isn’t_.

“I'm alive.” Percival tries to shrug and winces as he leans back into his pillows. “I’ll be glad when I finally get to return home.”

“Director Graves?” A mediwitch pokes her head in between the curtains separating them from the rest of the ward. “If you’re up to it, the President is here to debrief you.”

Percival goes stiff as a board.

“Yes, of course, send her in immediately.” Newt wonders if he should leave. Madam Seraphina Picquery strides into the little makeshift room, the picture of grace.

“Director Graves,” she greets him, “you’re looking better.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“And feeling better?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. It's our understanding that Grindelwald impersonated you for at least one full week. We're not sure what he managed to accomplish in that time but we're investigating. As soon as you're up to it, we'd like you back in action to mitigate the damage, Director.” President Seraphina Picquery is even more intimidating in person. She doesn’t spare Newt so much as a glance.

“As soon as I’m back on my feet I’ll be back in the office Madam President,” Percival assures her. Newt wants to protest but knows it’s not his place. He bites his tongue and instead studies the bestiary he’s brought with him even more closely.

“That’s good to hear, Percival. MACUSA stands behind you and all of us are wishing you,” her eyes cut to Newt, “and your family the best. If you find yourself in need of anything, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

Percival thanks her again and she takes her leave.

“Mr. Graves and...Mr. Graves,” The mediwitch pokes her head back in, “I have some instructions for your home care.”

She hands Newt a regimen of potions as well as instructions to return in the next few days to monitor Percival’s progress. Newt accepts the directions with as level a head as he can muster. There’ve been so many people in and out, all with eyes judging him. What are they thinking, he wonders. Is he fit to be Percival’s spouse? He's never been exactly desirable. Shoulders too wide, hips too narrow. He was far too tall for any Alpha’s attention. Even with his marriage to Percival, it wasn’t like the older man was attracted to him.

“Shall we head home then?” Percival’s voice penetrates his reverie.

“Yes of course. I’m sure your parents are anxious to hear from you. It’s all over the papers and I haven’t had much time to respond to letters.”

“Wonderful.” Percival begrudgingly accepts Newt’s help getting himself up out of the hospital bed.

“Let’s get you home,” Newt says softly. Percival’s recovery will take time, he knows, but Newt is determined to offer as much support as he’ll allow.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such lovely responses. I still have no idea what the hell I'm doing but here's chapter two. As usual, all mistakes are mine. Let me know what you think.

 

“I’m sure it’s not much comfort but he wasn't very convincing,” Newt says as he pulls the comforter up around Percival’s shoulders. He’s still on bed rest and he’s been warned that if he wants to return to work quickly, he’ll need to follow the mediwitch’s instructions.

“Honestly, I knew he was a fake as soon as he spoke,” Newt continues. He dims the lights around them with a quick flick of his wand and draws the curtains closed.

“You're the only one,” Percival hears himself grouse. He knows he’s being a terrible patient but Newt’s never complained before. This isn’t the first time Percival’s come home injured. It probably won’t be the last if he has his way.

“I'm sure someone would've caught on eventually, Percival,” Newt says as he motions for Wendi to set a tea tray on the bedside table, “all the good work you do for MACUSA, someone surely would have noticed you weren’t yourself. You heard the President. They can’t wait to have you back.” Newt bustles around the room, tidying up the space to his liking. Percival doesn’t have the heart to tell him he’d rather be alone.

Percival isn't so sure that MACUSA would have ever noticed his absence. Shamefaced Aurors had been careful not to meet his eyes while he’d been in the medical ward. Even Aurors he’d trained. _Mentored_. How in the world could they have thought _Grindelwald_ _was_ _him_? Did they truly find him so cold? So inhuman as to fire and discipline them without so much as a care?

And yet, somehow, Newt had detected the fraud almost immediately. _Newt_ of all people.

 _If you hadn't always been such an ass_ , a wicked voice in his head whispers, _he would have found you sooner. Your hands wouldn’t be shaking still._ He clenches his fingers and wills his extremities to quiet themselves but the pins and needles sensation won’t go away.

“Is it time for your potion?” He hears Newt ask quietly from his place across the room, “I can send Wendi for it.”

“No,” Percival sighs, “I think I’d like to be alone, Newt. You don’t need to look after me.”

Newt nods quickly, a nervous tilt to his shoulders.

“Of course, Percival. Listen to me prattling on and on. I’ll get out of your hair. If you need anything, I’ll be in the office.” He turns to leave and Percival is suddenly overcome with the need to know. A need for the answer to the question that's been lingering on his lips since they pulled him from that damn teapot.

“How did you know? How did you know that he wasn’t me?”

“Oh? Well, you’ve never called me _darling_ , Percival. Or kissed my cheek. He was obvious.” Newt's smile is gentle, his cheeks a lovely rosy pink. _He's never really been good at eye contact has he_ , Percival thinks.

“You knew it wasn’t me because he was _kind_ to you?” It’s a serious blow to Percival’s ego. On top of all the recent ones. Newt shakes his head immediately and walks towards the bed. He bows forward, not quite in Percival’s space but almost.

“Not truly. _You_ are kind to me, Percival. You always have been. Even when I haven't. I’ve never had illusions about what exists between us.”

“And what does exist, Newt?”

“Well...it’s convenient isn't it?” Newt pats his hand gently before leaving Percival to his thoughts.

\--

Percival hadn't wanted to marry so soon. He wasn’t even 30 yet when his parents insisted on a match. How could he be expected to coax someone into marriage while maintaining his forward momentum at MACUSA at the same time?

Percival knew he could make more of an effort but truly, he didn't quite have the time. “What about children?” His mother had asked, an expectant look on her face.

“I'm sure they'll come,” he’d tried to assuage her.

“Not if you're not married,” his father chimed in, “honestly Percy, you're the sole heir, It's up to you to carry on our family’s legacy. A match must be made and quickly.”

“I don't have time to find someone, father!” Percival had insisted. It was mostly true.

“Then let us do the work. Let us find you a good match,” his mother had clutched at his hand and squeezed. “You know your father’s health is getting worse. We want grandchildren, Percy.”

That was enough to get him to agree. His mother always knew how to get under his defenses to get what she wanted. Percival went back to his work life while his parents set out in search of a suitable partner for him.

Two months later, his mother finally reopened the discussion. She’d found someone.

“He's a little on the young side but his brother, Theseus Scamander, is a rising star in the ministry and their family has old roots.” She grinned at him, “he’s an _Omega_. Pure. I'm told he's handsome if a little odd.” Omegas are rare and prized. Percival should consider himself lucky to be considered as a prospect. How odd must this boy be?

“Odd how?” He asked.

“Well, apparently there was some scandalous business during his Hogwarts days. I couldn’t quite get the whole story out of anyone but I know it was enough to get him expelled. He's been seeing private tutors ever since.”

And there it was.

“No. That simply won’t do.” His father had said. Percival was inclined to agree. If he was going to excel, he needed a spouse by his side who would help, not hinder, his advancement. An upstart wouldn’t do him any good.

“But the connections to the Ministry can’t be ignored,” his mother argued, “this is Percival’s future. This boy may be a bit strange but the benefits-”

“Mother, please.”

“Theseus Scamander’s name means something. You can get to know him. What would MACUSA think, you already having ties to the Ministry of Magic? Aren’t we supposed to be entering a new age of cooperation?”

“Not if he's going to make more problems for me than I already have.”

“At least meet him, Percy. For me?” She’d smiled so gently at him and he knew, he could deny her nothing. He’d go to England to meet this boy who could be his spouse.

He arrived at the Scamander estate two hours earlier than he’d meant to much to their surprise and consternation. His intended’s mother (Genevieve, she’d insisted) assured him that _Newton_ would be down to meet him quickly and that he was free to explore the estate while he waited. She was an imposing woman with tight red curls and a high upturned nose. There was a certain status to her that had Percival standing even straighter so as not to insult her even accidentally.

He wandered throughout the estate gardens aimlessly wondering what the boy could be like. What would a marriage between them consist of? Was he as vapid and vain as so many of the Omegas Percival had met before? What would he expect from someone already scarred and battle-worn so early in life?

The gardens were lush and fragrant, obviously well tended to. Percival walked along the path until he came upon a set of stables.

“Please hold still. I’ve almost got the saddle on. This would be so much easier if - Ulysses!” A voice came from inside. Percival’s curiosity, (or maybe those investigative instincts) got the better of him.

He found the boy (and he was yet a boy) in one of the stalls with a large beast: a hippogriff. He was a thin waif of a thing with a crop of soft-looking red hair and vibrant green eyes. He was decked in riding gear and a long coat. He spoke to the hippogriff in a soft tone, a forlorn look on his pretty face.

Percival cleared his throat so as not to lurk.

The boy startled and the beast let out a horrible screeching noise before stepping between the two of them.

“Who are you?” The boy asked, red curls, falling over his eyes. “My parents won’t take kindly to a stranger in their stables.”

“My name is Percival Graves. I’ve come here as a guest of the Scamander family. The Lady of the house said I was free to roam while I wait to meet my potential spouse.” The boy’s cheeks flushed violently, his freckles nearly disappearing. It was then that Percival noticed the meager bags at his feet, wand and clothes among them.

“Are you... _running away_?” Percival asked, incredulity coloring his tone. This...this couldn’t be.

“No. Of course not,” the boy had said. It wasn’t a good lie but Percival didn’t call him on it, too shocked to think that his mother was really marrying him off to a _child_. “I was merely tidying the stables. Mother likes things to be in good shape for guests. Especially one as important as you...Mr. Graves.”

Just then, Genevieve Scamander turned the corner into the stables, “Newton? Newton! Oh, Mr. Graves! How embarrassing.” The resemblance between them was striking. If Newton turned out to be a beauty like his mother, Percival wouldn’t be the only one vying for his hand. “Newt, I told you to get yourself ready, not go for an afternoon ride.”

“Of course, Mother. I lost track of time. I apologize for my appearance, Mr. Graves. I hope I haven’t dissuaded you.” If possible, his voice was even quieter. He kept his gaze carefully averted as he gathered his things. “I’ll be ready within the half-hour.”

“Of course, take all the time you need. It’s nice to know you enjoy outside pursuits.” Percival kept his voice even, hoping to assuage some of Genevieve’s wrath.

“Well, I’ll have the elves put some tea on then. Or coffee for you Mr. Graves?” To her son, she said,  “get going, Newton. Mr. Graves doesn’t have all day.”

“Tea would be wonderful. And I have plenty of time. The best things come to those who are patient.” Percival offered Newt a gentle smile. It wasn’t returned.

“Spoken almost like an Englishman, Mr. Graves,” Genevieve chuckled, “escort me through the gardens?” Percival offered her his arm and tried his hardest not to look back at the boy whose life he might’ve just ruined.

Newt reappeared exactly half an hour later in navy blue dress robes. His wild curls had been brushed back and tamed. He was undeniably beautiful but the sadness in his eyes couldn't be ignored.

“Smile, Newton.” He heard the boy’s mother hiss. The smile Newt gave him was wobbly and unsure but a smile nonetheless.

“It's truly wonderful to make your acquaintance Mr. Graves. I apologize again for my earlier appearance.” Newt's eyes betrayed the lie.

“It was no trouble, Newton.”

“Newt, please,” Newt said despite his mother’s sputtering protests.

“Newt, it is then.”

“Perhaps the two of you could adjourn to the conservatory,” Newt’s mother suggested, “to get to know each other better.”

“Of course, Mother. Mr. Graves.” Percival extended his arm but Newt ignored it. “Follow me please.”

Percival followed Newt throughout the vast manor. The conservatory was lovely with a high arcing ceiling. There were potted plants all over and Percival could imagine spending hours sitting there. It was a shame it was such a cloudy day.

“How old are you?” Percival heard himself ask absently. Was that really the best he could come up with?

“19, Mr. Graves.” Was Newt’s tight-lipped answer. He sat down on one of the ornate couches and thanked the house elf who had appeared with a tea set.

“You don't have to call me ‘Mr. Graves’. If we're to be married, I imagine you’ll be using my given name quite a bit.”

“And are we? To be married I mean?” Newt turned to face him finally, red curls shining despite the lack of sunlight. Percival resisted the urge to reach out and push a lock of that wild hair behind Newt’s ear.

“I would hope. I think we could get along well. Don’t you?” Percival sat down finally on the couch across from Newt.

“And what brought you here, Percival? You know my reputation, I assume?”

Percival hesitated to nod but did so. “Yes, I heard about your expulsion. Your family’s lost some of it’s…”

“Respectability? Because of an embarrassment like me? You’re a blessing to my parents. A big strong Alpha here to cart me off to another country. A ‘good match, Newton. A stern hand, Newton.’” It came out in a rush and Percival was truly scared Newt might cry. “Father says you’re going to be one of the best Aurors in America. A rising star. Why would you want to tie me to you?”

“Newton, it would be my honor-”

“I know I may not seem bright, Percival but I can spot a lie. I would hope you would pay me the courtesy of at least being honest. I know my brother has connections to offer one as ambitious as you." It was not said as an insult but instead, a foregone conclusion. Newt had seen right through him.

Percival studied the one who was to be his husband with care. If they were to be married making peace early would be to his benefit. It wasn’t as if he had nothing to offer someone in Newt’s position.

“You’re correct,” he said finally, “I have my eyes on a Directorship in MACUSA and having ties to your brother could prove beneficial. We’re already on good terms but a familial tie could only help.”

“A familial tie,” Newt repeated quietly, “and that’s what I provide?”

“Indeed. I don’t see why we can’t make this work. I could provide you a comfortable life in America. You could do as you pleased as long as it doesn't interfere with my work. Unless you'd be happier here with your parents.” It was a low blow but Percival wasn't above it.

Newt shot him a withering glare but seemed to consider his offer. “I'd hate to leave Ulysses behind. We're so close.”

“Ulysses?”

“My hippogriff, Percival.”

“I haven't much room for a hippogriff. Or any other sort of beasts,” Percival said honestly. His flat was spacious but not nearly enough for a hippogriff. He doubted even the Graves Estate could hold the beast.

Newt's face fell and Percival felt his opportunity slipping through his fingers.

“But the university is always looking for new interns. They have a magizoology department. Perhaps that could suit your interest.” It was a difficult compromise, one where Newt had the most to lose. “I have some pull within the department.”

“I suppose that's better than what I hoped for,” Newt sighed, “I'll marry you, Percival Graves, if you’ll have me.” He finally looked at Percival then, resigned. Any hope of a love match fled from Percival’s heart.

And so they married.

A quiet ceremony in the British countryside at Newt’s parent’s insistence. Theseus Scamander approached him at the reception. A photograph of them shaking hands is on the front page of both the British and American newspapers. A new era of combined effort, they say.

 

 

Newt’s photo, however, is conspicuously absent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to visit me at either: 
> 
> [my side tumblr that's dedicated to art and fic.](http://bittlebarnes.tumblr.com/)  
> [my main tumblr that's all fandom j](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still going. I have most of chapter four written so that should be up soon. This chapter was kind of weird. Lots of jumping around. I hope it's not too annoying.

“We're so glad you're alright,” Percival’s mother says. She clutches at his hand from her place across the dinner table. “I shudder to think what that man would’ve done to you had he gotten his way. If he’d had you any longer.” She shakes her head as she gestures for Wendi to refill her glass. “Will Newton be home soon? Your father and I want to thank him. Exposing one of the darkest wizards of our age? It’s all over the papers. He looks quite dashing in the photographs.”

Percival fights the urge to roll his eyes. His mother could really do the work of MACUSA’s entire public relations department if she put her mind to it. He makes a point to never let her meet Seraphina. “He's working late at the University. Something about dragons, I believe. Someone brought them an egg so he’s been preoccupied with that,” he responds instead. To avoid this dinner, he thinks to himself. Newt avoids Percival’s parents like the plague. They’d never really gotten on in all the time he and Percival had been married. Every time he and Percival’s mother were in the same room, she’d cluck her tongue and poke at his belly before lamenting their lack of children. As if Percival wasn’t equally responsible on that front. 

“Ah. He’s with the creatures still?” His father asks, pulling Percival from his train of thought.

“Yes,” Percival pauses to chew, “he took quite a bit of time off so he could be at home with me but I think he’s happy to be able to go back to work. I’m getting around much better on my own these days.”

“Hm,” Percival tried to ignore the subtle downturn of his father’s lips, “we always thought he'd grow out of that. Become a proper Omega for you.”

“It's what he loves,” Percival’s tone was unintentionally sharp, “he'd probably be traveling the world looking for beasts if he didn't have to stay here with me.”

His father looks at him peculiarly.

“How are things between you two? Just a year ago you were considering ending things and moving onto someone who could provide you an heir. I would hate for this whole mess to cloud your judgment.” Claudius Graves is a stern man. He always had been. It’s what made him such a great Auror, Percival had always thought.

“It hasn't,” Percival says carefully,  “Newt and I are just beginning to understand each other. I think I’m starting to realize that I haven't been the easiest person to live with. Newt’s always tried. I suppose I could try too.”

“He tell you that?”

“He wouldn't,” Percival sighs as he sets his silverware aside. He feels his father’s studious gaze but ignores it, “I’d rather not get divorced.”

“Of course not,” his mother sniffs, “but children-”

“Will come when Newt and I are ready.” If they ever decide to share a bed. Percival keeps that part to himself. “We have time.”

Claudius is shaking his head, disappointment radiating off of him in unavoidable waves. Percival keeps his eyes on his plate and hopes he’s right. He and Newt have reached an impasse. It will take time to undo the damage to their relationship but Percival’s never really tried before. If they want to have a family of their own, he’s gonna have to start.

 

\--

 

“My cufflinks. I can't find them.” Percival tried to calm his frustrated nerves but the sudden disappearance of various items around his home was disconcerting, to say the least. He didn’t consider himself overly neat but certain objects had certain places in his home.

His interview was today. It was the final round of interviews to determine who would serve as the new Director of Magical Law Enforcement. Newt _knew_ how much this meant to him.

“I know I left them in the same drawer I always leave them. This can’t be happening. Not today. Newt!” He barked. The boy, and yes he was still a boy, noticeably flinched. They hadn’t been married yet a year and some days, Percival wondered if he had made the right choice bringing Newt into his life. It seemed as if they were from two completely different worlds and he wondered if they could ever truly blend.

“I’m sure they’re around, Percival,” Newt had said nervously and Percival’s eyes instantly snapped to him. Even though they hadn’t been married long, he’d already learned what guilt sounded like in Newt’s voice.

“And you wouldn’t, pray tell, know where they are would you, Newt?” He said, his voice icy.

“Well, no-ahem- but I might know how to find them?”

Newt wandered around the house, pulling open drawers and checking cabinets before he finally produced a wriggling bundle of brown fur.

“Is that a niffler?”

“Yes. He's from the university,” Newt laughed as he tickled the little menace. Percival’s cufflinks (a gift from his father from when he first became an Auror) clattered to the counter from the beast’s pouch. Newt gathered them up and pressed them into Percival’s outstretched palm. “There now. That wasn’t so bad.”

Percival was, for a lack of better words, shocked.

“If he's from the University, why is he here?” He demanded.

“He must have stowed away in my suitcase, silly fella.” He watched Newt scratch the thing under the chin like it’s some sort of pet. 

“Is this going to be a recurring thing? Pests in my house?” Percival groaned. He wouldn’t have it. He couldn’t.

Newt’s face did something strange. There was a moment, a quick flicker, where Percival was sure Newt was going to cry before his expression went markedly blank.

“Of course not. It won't happen again, Percival. I know how important your home is to you. I’ll make sure to treat it with respect.” His voice was decidedly cold. He bundled the niffler into his arms and stood tall. “I’ll take him back to the University now. He won’t be here to bother you when you get back.”

Percival couldn't help thinking he'd failed some sort of test.

There are no more creatures after that. Newt stays late at the university sometimes but never brings his work home. Never even talks about it.

Percival gets the promotion. A year into their marriage, he gets what he’s wanted all along. He’s the Director of Magical Law Enforcement.

 

 

Newt’s congratulatory smile is so fake, Percival’s surprised it doesn’t crack right off of his face.

 

\--

 

“Dinner with your parents was nice?” Newt asks as he hangs his coat in the foyer.

“It was. You were missed.”

“Oh, I'm sure,” Newt openly scoffs. His hair is a birds nest, even more so than usual and his wand is tucked behind his ear. Percival resists the urge to lecture on safety precautions. He doesn’t think Newt would appreciate it.

“I'm sure the house isn't nearly as clean as your mother likes me to keep it. And I’m sure she’s sick of the tea. And the lack of pitter-pattering little feet,” Newt continues. Percival watches as he toes off his shoes and slides his feet into a pair of slippers like he knows Percival prefers. “I hope you didn’t wait up for me, Percival. I told you I was going to be late.”

“Yes, you always do,” Percival replies quietly. He leans against the wall opposite Newt and groans, “If I’m being completely honest, it’s mostly to avoid going to sleep.”

“You’re having nightmares still?” Newt’s green eyes spark with worry,  “we can go back to the healer-”

“I don’t need a damn potion, Newt,” Percival says in a rush, his voice harsh. Newt shuts his mouth immediately, his cheeks flushing a violent red at the chastisement. 

“Yes, of course. How silly of me,” he says flatly and Percival wants to shake himself. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to stop by the kitchen to make a pot of tea. I have papers to grade before bed.” He pushes past Percival and is gone.

Percival wants to slam his head into the wall. How did he fuck that up? Percival waits a few beats, takes a deep breath, and heads to the kitchen. 

Newt’s sitting at the kitchen table, pages moving freely in front of him while a spelled quill corrects any spelling or grammatical errors. He knows Newt re-reads the to check for content. Percival is hesitant to disturb him.

From what he’s heard, Newt is excellent in his field. He’d risen quickly at the University from intern to TA to Professor in his own right within three years. Percival hadn’t paid that much attention.

“Wasn’t it your mother who said it was impolite to lurk in doorways, Percival?” Newt doesn’t look up from his papers, just crosses out a sentence before moving down the page.

“She does say that.” Percival agrees and fully enters the kitchen.

“Is there something you need?”

“No. Well, maybe to apologize. Newt...I’m sorry for snapping at you. These past few weeks have been...difficult. Exceptionally so.” Percival feels his hands begin to shake and squeezes his fists tighter until his nails bite into his palm.

“It’s alright. I can’t pretend to know what you need. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Percival has almost always ignored Newt’s moments of frost. They’ve become more and more infrequent, probably due to their lack of nearness, but Percival hasn't had the chance to properly shove his foot in his mouth in a while.

He's making up for lost time apparently.

“I appreciate you taking time off from work to care for me. You didn't have to.”

Newts pen stops scratching away at that. He finally looks up at Percival and sighs.

“You are my husband, Percival. You went through an ordeal.” He pours himself another cup of tea. “You shouldn’t have to suffer needlessly."

Percival crosses his arms and hopes Newt won't see the evidence of his weakness. “Well,” he pivots, “regardless. I shouldn't have disrespected you.”

Newt actually looks surprised. “Oh. Well,” the quill goes back to scratching, “thank you for saying that. I’m gonna finish up here and then head to bed.”

“I'll leave you to your work, then. Good night, Newt.”

“Good night, Percival.”

 

\--

 

He hears Newt climb the stairs almost an hour later, hears the sink start to run as Newt readies himself for bed. They’ve never shared a bed, he and Newt. The closest they’ve gotten is sharing a bathroom whilst on their ‘honeymoon’. He’s seen Newt in his nightclothes before but never long enough to really take in the image.

For the first time in awhile, Percival finds himself pondering it.

It’s even more difficult to fall asleep after that.

 

\--

 

Percival’s first day back at work is nothing but chaos. MACUSA is in absolute disarray. For someone who spent such little time there, Grindelwald managed to throw everyone off so kilter. There's a mountain of paperwork on Percival's desk that taunts him whenever he looks at it. He enlists Tina’s help. She’s one of his most competent Aurors and frankly, he could really use the assistance.

“It’s good to have you back where you belong sir,” Tina tells him. She’s sitting on one of the couches in his office looking as exhausted as he feels.  “I'm sure your husband is glad to have you back as well.”

“He’s happy to be back at work, I think,” Percival deflects.

“He’s a professor, right?”

“Yes. He teaches Magizoology.”

“That must be interesting.” Percival’s eyebrow quirks at Tina’s tone. There’s something there but he can’t put his finger on it.

“I’m told it is. He enjoys it at least. That’s what matters,” he says trying to keep his tone neutral.

“If you don’t mind me speaking candidly, sir?”

“I welcome it.”

“A lot of us are...uh...surprised. You? Letting your Omega work?” That’s...not what Percival expected.

“Newt’s his own man. He wouldn’t appreciate being stifled. I promised him when we married that he’d be able to work.” Tina looks shocked at that. What kind of asshole does she think Percival is?

“Oh. That’s really  nice of you.” Tina says earnestly.

Percival ignores the queasy feeling in his stomach.

 

\--

 

Percival has to stretch legs. He’s been behind his desk for hours and his vision is starting to swim. He leaves his office with a goal of doing a lap around the building when a crop of red hair and blue coat scurrying past catch his eye.

“Newt?”

“Percival. I thought you’d be in the office all day!” Newt looks flustered at having been caught. “They said we wouldn’t pass your department.”

“You didn’t say you were coming.” Percival tries not to feel hurt.

“I'm here with students. One of our faculty suggested we visit MACUSA’s creature department so...here we are.” He looks nervous, keeps his eyes downcast. “And I know you’re busy. Your job is important. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Percival honestly didn't even know MACUSA had a creature department. Or maybe he did. He’s exhausted.  It’s a surprising relief to see Newt. Percival’s not ready to see him leave.

“Anyway, I’ll get out of your hair.” Newt gives him an awkward wave and turns to leave.

“Actually, I was just about to break for lunch,” Percival blurts. He hears Tina begin to protest but silences her with a look. “If you have a moment or two.”

Newt looks just as surprised as Tina.

“My students are actually headed to the cafeteria. If you’d like to eat there.”

“Boss never eats in the cafeteria,” Tina laughs, “he wouldn’t be caught dead there.”

“Perhaps it’s time I see it, Goldstein. If you’ll excuse us.” Percival doesn’t extend his hand. He’s not sure Newt would take it but he does nod his head in the general direction of the cafeteria.

Newt offers him the smallest of smiles and Percival feels his chest clench.

When he sits across from Newt at one of the tiny tables in the cafeteria eating some of the shittiest food he’s ever tasted he’s surprised that for the first time in a while, his hands are still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to visit me at either: 
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	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward. Two steps back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the beautiful and lovely comments. You guys encourage me to keep writing. I'll keep updating the tags as things change and grow in this fic. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

“Mr. Graves is liking you to know he won't be home tonight,” Wendi appears at Newt's side, a consternated look on her little face.

“Thank you, Wendi,” Newt smiles at her before going back to his book. It's been two weeks since Percival returned to work and he's been diligent about keeping Newt in the loop. If he's going to be late he either sends Wendi or a note to let Newt know not to worry and an apology for missing dinner.

It's different. It’s...nice. He lets his mind wander to a future where he and Percival could be _something_. Something more than what they are now.

Newt wonders, however, if this goodwill between them can last. Percival is, more than most, a creature of habit, Newt thinks. This recent behavior is anomalous due to stress and changes in his environment but creatures always return to their true natures once they’ve settled. He twists the ring on his finger and tries to remind himself where he stands in their relationship.

No matter how much Newt wants things to stay just the way they are.

\--

"You know I don't want to burden you, Newt, but really _._ You simply must snap out of this funk you’re in.” Theseus had come to America to visit. _A show of goodwill_ , he’d said, _that the Ministry and MACUSA are getting along just fine. The war is over._ He was staying with Newt and Percival in their home in the city. Newt tried to welcome his brother but the man spent most of his free time with Percival in meetings. Any time alone with Newt was filled with unwanted advice and pitying looks.

“I’m not in a funk.” Newt pulled his feet up onto the chaise and sighed knowingly. This was a conversation they’d had many times. “I’ve told you, Percival and I aren’t there yet. I’m only 21, Theseus. There’s plenty of time for children. When would Percival even see them anyway? He’s as busy as you are.”

“Newt, you know it’s not the same.”

Newt did know. Plenty of Omegas his age are already on their second or third pregnancies. Many of Percival’s contemporaries already had large families. Theseus’ new wife was expecting and they’d only been married six months. Suddenly, Newt’s empty nest was starting to look a certain way.

“What do you want from me? I didn't ask to come here, Theseus. This wasn’t my decision. You can’t foist me off on a strange Alpha on the other side of the world and just expect me to lay up and bear his children. You know this isn’t the life I wanted.” Newt tries to keep his voice even but he wobbles near the end, still a frightened boy at heart.

“No,” Theseus agreed. There was a sympathy in his voice that Newt hadn’t expected. Not many were sympathetic towards him, simply disdainful. “But Newt, you must understand and accept that it’s the life you have. You can make the best of it. Now, has Percival been unkind to you.”

“Define unkind.”

“Newt.” Theseus groaned. “I just want what’s best for you. You’re still young and handsome and that’s gotten you this far.” Theseus sat down at the foot of the chaise and held Newt’s gaze. “It’s gotten you and Alpha who’s wealthy and who’s willing to let you work but you must understand that there’s a cost, Newt. And I don’t want the worst to happen.”

“Of course. We shan’t embarrass the family again, right?” Newt snorted, “father would see me institutionalized before he allowed a divorce. Perhaps that's what he’s wanted all along.”

Theseus groaned at the accusation. “Don’t say that. Father loves you very much. He was very concerned about you moving so far away from us but allowed it because of Percival’s character. And a divorce isn’t the worst thing that could happen to you. If you aren't careful, you could wind up with another Omega living here.”

Something vile and poisonous curled in Newt’s stomach at the thought. It was vicious and instinctual and set his teeth on edge.

“Percival would never,” He snapped.

“It’s more common than you think. He’s got the status,” Theseus warned. Newt knew it wasn’t unheard of at all for alphas of a certain prestige to marry a second omega to help carry on their lines.

“He wouldn't do that to me,” He asserted still certain, “I have every intention of delivering him an heir so it won’t be a problem.”

Theseus didn’t look convinced but nodded all the same.

“I just worry about you, little brother. I know this has been hard on you but you’re so strong, Newt.” Theseus took his hand then and squeezed. It was a rare show of affection, one that almost startled Newt. “You must guard yourself. Don’t give Percival a reason to make your life more difficult.”

For a moment, Newt wondered if Percival had divulged something to Theseus. Something that would worry Theseus about his future.

But Percival had made promises and, if anything, Newt trusted him to keep his word. He was safe with Percival. He always would be.

\--

Newt makes the decision on a whim. If he wants this _thing_ between he and Percival, this peace between them, to last, he may have to leave his comfort zone. It’s frightening but cowardice would leave them back where they started.

Or worse.

It’s this sudden spike of bravery that has him packing up the meal Wendi made and apparating to the Woolworth building. Percival’s thrown himself back into his work with a fervor but his health still worries Newt.

He knows his way to Percival’s office this time and bypasses Auror Goldstein’s office despite her double take.

When he finds himself outside of Percival’s door, the dread returns. This was a terrible idea.

“He’s in there.” He hears a voice behind him say. It’s a witch, pretty and blonde. “He’s been in there all day so I’m sure he’ll be happy to see a friendly face. You don’t have to worry.” She tosses him a wink and pats him on the shoulder before leaving.

It’s weird but it does make him feel better. Even if Percival is angry, he’ll just go home and eat alone like normal.

He knocks.

The door swings open on its own, Percival not even looking up from his desk.

“Yes?” He sounds irritated.

"Percival?” Percival’s head snaps up, a shocked look on his face.

“Newt? What are you doing here? Surely not another class trip.”  

“No. I actually bro-brought you dinner. Wendi cooked so you don't have to worry.” Newt says in a rush. Percival’s eyes finally hone in on the basket in Newt’s grasp.

“Oh, Newt,” He says, his voice soft,  “thank you.” He stashes his pen before getting up from his desk. He gestures for Newt to sit down on the couch before joining him.

“I'm sorry if I interrupted.” Newt sets the basket between them and begins fishing things out.

“No. I needed the distraction." Percival accepts an offered napkin.

Newt doesn't know what to say. He and Percival rarely shared conversations over meals when they were at home let alone in the man’s office. Percival was rarely home early enough to attend meals and if he did, Newt usually ignored him in favor of grading papers. If they did speak, the topics proved to be mostly surface level in nature.

“Things are going well? With you being back in the office?” He ventures. It’s a poor opening but he hopes Percival appreciates the effort.

“Hm? I wouldn't say well but they're going. It’s been more frustrating than anything.” He stops to chew and silence laps over them again.

Finally, Percival looks up at him, his brows furrowed. It looks almost as if he’s seeing Newt for the first time.

“Newt, you’re a magizoologist.”

“Um, yes. I am.” Where in the world could this go?

“Do you know what an Obscurus is?”

That’s...not what Newt expected.

“Of course. I teach a section on them in my class. It’s the manifestation of the repressed energy within all magical children. For one to be created, the child would have to endure extreme abuse. They’re quite fascinating. I’ve never encountered one in real life but the man who previously held my position told some very intense stories.”

Percival looks more enraptured than Newt’s ever seen him in a conversation about creatures. Something’s wrong.

“Why are you interested in Obscurials? You’re not, you’re not pursuing one are you, Percival?” While Newt has always believed in field experience, he always cautioned his students. The textbooks weren’t always right and caution needed to be exercised.

“It’s an open case, Newt. I’m afraid I can’t divulge the details. Just...I might have more questions.”

That’s concerning.

They finish their meal and Newt tries to put the anxiety from his mind.

He is not successful.

\--

Newt decides to spend his day off catching up on some reading. There’s an article on mooncalves he’s been dying to dive into but student work has really been taking its toll. Percival's supposed to stop in for lunch and Newt is surprised at himself: he’s actually excited. Thirty minutes before Percival is set to arrive, he gets cleaned up. He fixes his hair and picks out one of his better shirts to wear.

Wendi sets out a nice lunch tray for them and actually smiles at Newt. It's just a day of surprises.  He grins when he hears the front door open and goes to greet his husband.

“Newt! Good, you're home.” Percival's smile is exhausted but there nonetheless. It’s who’s with him that drowns out Newt's sudden goodwill. “This is Credence. He's going to be staying with us for the foreseeable future.” Percival's smile still hasn't faltered even though Newt swears the room is suddenly 20 degrees cooler.

Underneath the sour smell of unrealized magic is an unmistakable sweetness. Percival's brought another _Omega_ into their home. Newt wants to shred him.

He never thought Percival would take it this far, that Theseus could possibly be right. The _humiliation_.

His recent kindness? The ground they’d gained in their marriage? Had it all been for show? For this boy?

Something must show on his face because Percival clears his throat and calls, “Wendi? Will you please take Credence upstairs to help him get settled? I think I need to speak with Newt alone.”

“Of course, Mr. Graves. You is following Wendi now?” the boy looks mystified at the little elf but follows her dutifully. He quietly shuffles past Newt without meeting his eyes.

As well he shouldn't, Newt thinks venomously.

“I'm sorry I didn't let you know I'd be late. Dealing with Credence’s situation has been tricky, to say the least. It took a lot to get clearance for him to stay with us.” He hangs up his coat and loosens his tie. “Hopefully things won't be this way for long.”

“And how do you expect them to be?” Newt asks thickly. Does he still have a place here? Or will Percival want him foisted off somewhere else? That's not uncommon either. Divorce is embarrassing for all involved. Better to ship him off _to the country_ or worse, back to his parents.

“Easier?”

“ _‘Easier_.’” The word doesn’t even feel right echoed on Newt’s tongue, “if you think I'm going to just-just _allow_ this, you are mistaken.”

Percival looks taken aback.

“Newt, Credence needs-”

“I don’t really care what he needs. I won’t have a second in this house. You don't need one. I haven't asked you for much but I won’t entertain a _harem._ ”

“A _harem?_ ” Percival's voice is reaching an uncomfortable pitch. “Wait, a _second_. You think-Credence is not going to be a second omega.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Because needs my help! He's part of the case I'm working! Mercy Lewis, Newt!” Percival looks more taken aback then Newt’s ever seen him. "You think so little of me? That I would just parade another Omega into our home? Your home? Newt-"

“I heard your mother talking. She's been looking for a new omega for you for months. Ever since you told her you didn't want me anymore."

The silence between them is deafening. Newt feels his chest heave and wonders where the sudden burst of anger came from. Percival goes pale but doesn't deny the accusation. He can't.

“That wasn't a conversation you were supposed to hear.” He says finally, his voice quiet.

“But I did. And now you've kept your word.” The anguish Newt feels is unexpected. It sits like acid at the base of his spine. Newt feels awful, like an absolute failure. “I think I'm going to vomit,” he says.

Percival takes him by the arm and guides him to the kitchen. Newt takes a seat while Perical gets him a glass of water.

He tries not to cry.

Percival sets the glass on the table next to him.

Newt wipes his eyes tiredly.

“If you want me to move Credence-”

“It’s fine. You said he’s a guest, then that’s that.” Newt tries to keep his voice even but it comes out harsh nonetheless. “This is your home.”

Percival doesn’t flinch per say but his composure slips, just for a second. There’s a crack in his carefully cultivated facade that Newt hasn’t seen before.

“It’s-it’s your home too, Newt,” He says quietly, “It’s our home.”

Newt fights the sudden urge to snort. “I’ve been derelict in my marital duties. Theseus warned me this would happen.”

“Warned you of what? That I’d bring a second omega into our home?”

“Because I haven’t given you an heir. You want someone you desire.” It’s a crushing admission, one Newt has always feared. He had gone to Percival once at the beginning of their marriage, ready to do his duty, only to be summarily rejected. He’d never tried again.

Percival’s sigh is heavy as he sits down next to Newt.

“Newt...I don’t think I’ve done any of this right,” he tucks a loose curl behind Newt’s ear before cupping his cheek, “but understand this, it is never my intention to disrespect you or your position in our home. I swore you a life of contentment and it would appear I’ve broken my promise.”

“Percival…”

“But maybe this is where we get the chance to start over. When I was with Grindelwald,” he shudders and Newt wants so much to comfort him, “I knew I was going to die. I wanted to at some points. I knew you would never come for me."

“You thought I would abandon you?”

“No,  I just didn't think I'd given you reason enough to care.” Percival huffs another sigh, “but you came anyway. You came and you saved my life.”

The urge to cry is suddenly back. Newt doesn't like to think about how close Percival came to death.  “I knew something was wrong. I should have come for you so much sooner, Percival.”

“There was nothing more you could have done and I don’t blame you for staying away. I know that you care. I just hope you know that I care for you as well.” Percival’s voice is so gentle that Newt has to fight the urge to curl into him.

It's not love.

But, then again, Newt didn’t marry Percival for love.

“I will never intentionally hurt you,” Percival says and Newt knows it’s a promise, “regardless of whether we have children. I’ll never have a need for a second.” He presses a the softest of kisses to the crown of Newt’s head and Newt breaks. He curls into Percival’s shoulder and finally exhales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my side tumblr that's dedicated to art and fic.](http://bittlebarnes.tumblr.com/)   
>  [my main tumblr that's all fandom](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)
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> Visit me! I need more gramander friends in my life!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super late! The summers been really hectic and frankly, this was super hard to write. I'm still not happy with it but I had to get it out of my drafts folder.

Touch is a foreign concept one that hasn’t existed in much of Newt’s personal life, even before his union with his husband. It has never been commonplace in Newt’s marriage. There have been no hugs, no fleeting embraces, or stolen kisses. That’s probably why the last few weeks have been so confusing.

Percival touches him so much more freely now. A hand on his shoulder. On the back of his neck. The casual contact sends shivers down Newt’s back every single time. The contact lingers, sometimes almost questioningly but Newt always presses closer rather than pulling away. 

They never talk about it. 

Not when Percival carefully brushes Newt’s curls out his face. Not even when Newt feels Percival's hand on the small of his back or resting on his waist. Newt always shivers but never from the cold. 

_ This could be enough _ , he thinks. He’s lying to himself, he knows. This feels like a promise, like a preview of what they could truly be. He thinks he could learn to truly love Percival’s touch, to crave it. 

_ Credence _ , however? He’s something to get used to. Newt and Percival have acclimated to sharing each other’s space but adding a third person is an adjustment. It doesn’t help that Credence is also a bit of an odd duck. 

The boy spends the first few weeks lurking in doorways and never quite meeting Newt’s eyes. He had to have heard Newt and Percival's argument from the weeks before. He knows what Newt thought of him (still thinks of him at times).

All things considered, the boy  _ is  _ quite attached to Percival. Credence follows the older man around the house like a lost baby duckling, skulking in his shadow and watching him work. Newt struggles to keep his composure but Percival has his trust. He refuses to openly doubt his husband’s character again. 

  
  
  


He can doubt Credence’s though. 

\--

“You don't like me." Credence says as he sits down one day across from him and places his hands on top of the dining room table. His voice is soft, measured like he's not used to using it. He's wearing a set of Newt’s old pajamas. They’re too long on him, Newt notes.

“I can't dislike someone I don't know,” he says instead before going back to his book. Percival's assurances should have eased the fight inside him but Newt’s instincts are still working against him. Though Credence’s voice is soft, it still feels like a challenge.

It's petty, Newt knows but just having another omega in the house riles him. Even if it is one as non-threatening as Credence.

“But you don’t like me anyway,” Credence pulls his feet up into his chair and wraps his arms around his knees. He sighs meekly. “It's okay, I think. I'm used to not being liked.”

That's...that’s heartbreaking.

“It’s not that I don’t like you, Credence,” Newt closes his book and finally meets Credence’s gaze, “I just don’t know why you’re here. Other than for Percival’s case. It’s a little unsettling for me.”

Credence looks nervous but nods all the same. “He says you help magical beasts,” the boy says finally. 

That...is not where Newt expected this conversation to go. 

“I do,” he says slowly,  “at the University.”

Credence nods and bites his bottom lip. His eyes are thoughtful. “I think he hopes that maybe you can help me?” 

“Help...you?” Newt reexamines Credence’s features more closely. Dark eyes and pale skin? Far too thin? A vampire perhaps? Or a fae? Newt only has theory to go off of but maybe the uneasiness Credence causes is more than just Newt’s insecurity. 

“You're a creature?” Newt asks carefully. He does his best to keep his voice measured.

“No. At least I don’t think so anyway,” Credence taps his long fingers along his knees, “but they think one’s attached to me. They said it's something called an obscurus.”

Newt nearly drops his book.

\--

“He’s an obscurial? And you didn’t think that was important to tell me?” Newt tries to keep his voice down despite the various spells that soundproof Percival's office. 

Percival pinches the bridge of his nose and huffs, “I told Credence you weren’t supposed to be told right now. You aren't supposed to know about that unless absolutely necessary.”

“You should have told that to the obscurial living in my home, Percival,” Newt chastises, “Credence was quite candid. I appreciated it.”

Percival doesn’t dignify the dig, “we’re working on a way to separate him from the obscurus.”

“That’s never been done before,” Newt reminds him, “this is my field, Percival. Don’t you think I could’ve been of some help on this?”

“It crossed my mind, yes.” Percival closes his planner and shoves it into a drawer. Obviously, he’s given up any hope of getting work done with Newt at his back.

“And you decided against my help?” It doesn’t hurt. It feels like it should but Newt’s not sure what exactly he expected. 

“No, I prioritized your safety over the benefit. Grindelwald wanted Credence for what, I don't know but I know it can't be good. I'd really rather not have you in harm's way if I can help it.” Percival faces him finally, his eyes tired.

Newt considers that. Percival's concern is touching but if Grindelwald’s intentions are truly so nefarious, Percival's going to need all the help he can get. Newt is sure they won’t get so lucky with him again. 

“Credence is already living here. Grindelwald already knows who I am. I'm  _ involved _ , Percival. Keeping me in the dark serves no one but our enemies.” Newt rests a careful hand on Percival’s shoulder. “You won't always be able to protect me but we  _ can  _ try to keep each other safe.”

Percival looks exhausted, he always does now. Newt hates making his life more difficult but this is  _ necessary _ . “You must trust me, Percival,” he whispers, “We only have each other.”

Finally, Percival sighs, the tension dropping from his shoulders like a stone.

“You're right,” he relents.

“I normally am.”

It's a cheesy joke but Newt's rewarded with a small smile.

It warms him. 

\--

Credence begins to appear more and more in Newt’s peripheral vision. He loiters in the corners of rooms, eyes curious as Newt goes about his daily routines.

‘ _ Now he’s imprinted on me. Wonderful,’  _ Newt thinks wistfully. It’s like the assurance that he didn’t hate Credence gave the boy permission to become attached. 

“Where do you go during the day?” Credence asks as Newt is pulling on his coat to head to work.

“To class. I teach, Credence You know that.” Newt replies in exasperation. 

“About creatures. All day?”

“Yes,” Newt sighs.

Credence taps his fingers along Newt’s dresser, “are there creatures there?”

“Of course. For educational purposes. My students require a practical approach. I wish we could travel to see some of our species in their natural habitats.”

The interest in Credence’s eyes is unavoidable.

That’s how Newt gains his strangest teaching assistant yet (and he’s had some weird ones). Credence is quiet and awkward but incredibly diligent and enamored with the beasts Newt works with. The creatures are wary of him at first, some of them picking up on the underlying  _ wrongness _ in layering Credence’s natural omega scent but most come around. After a month, Credence has started to find his own voice.

Newt worries (of course he does). Obscurials are, at their core, unstable. 

Nevertheless, the work comes naturally to him. Newt tentatively places him in charge of the Occamy nest in the corner of his office. It’s the best decision he could have made. Credence dotes on the tiny creatures, spends hours curled up with them. It’s the most relaxed Newt has seen him since they met. 

Percival’s worry over Credence leaving the house is palpable but he wisely holds his tongue. 

“He’s probably just happy I didn’t maul the poor boy.” Newt confides to Dougal one day. The demiguise blinks sleepily as Newt places him in his enclosure. 

Credence is reluctant to leave the office but follows Newt dutifully. He knows they’ll be back tomorrow.

\--

Newt wakes to the sound of low moans coming from down the hall. At first, he’s sure Credence is having nightmares again until he realizes that it's _Percival’s_ voice he's hearing. 

He registers a low sob of, “ _ no...please stop _ ,” and he’s on his feet in an instant, out of his room, and quickly padding down the hall. He quietly pushes open the door to Percival’s room and slips inside. 

Percival’s kicked his blankets off himself and two of his pillows are on the floor. His face is twisted in agony, a pain his waking self would never betray. His entire body seems wound tight when it should be at rest.

“Percival,” Newt reaches out and shakes him lightly. “You're having a nightmare, Percival. You need to wake up.” He doesn't expect Percival’s fist and when it slams into his mouth, Newt doesn't have the wherewithal to duck. Suddenly he’s flat on his ass on the hard wooden floor and dizzier than he’s ever felt. Never let it be said that Percival would need magic to win a fight. 

“Newt?” Percival says groggily as he wipes the sleep from his eyes, “oh my god. Are you alright? Newt?” 

“It's fine. Really. I’m okay” Newt gets to his feet and fumbles to find his wand. He wanders to Percival’s dresser and casts a quick illuminating charm so he can see his face in the mirror. The damage is minimal really.  Just a split lip and an aching jaw. It’s an easy fix. Before Newt can wave his wand, he feels the tingle of Percival’s magic rushing over him warm and comforting. The blood is gone, as is his injury. He meets Percival’s eyes in the mirror and raises an eyebrow.

Percival waves his hand again and the small spatter of blood staining his nightshirt also disappears.

“I'm so sorry for hurting you,” he says and his voice, Newt’s never heard Percival sound defeated before. It’s unsettling. 

“I shouldn't have woken you so suddenly. It was my fault. You just sounded so distressed-”

“Newt. No. You were trying to help me,” Percival sucks in a hard breath and winces, “you're always trying to help me.” Percival puts his head in his hands and Newt doesn’t know what to do. He fumbles with the buttons of his nightshirt and searches his mind for something comforting to say, something he can do to take away some of Percival’s pain and make things more bearable.

After a few uncomfortable moments, Percival finally speaks, “sometimes I wake up and I think he's there. I think I’m still there in that place and he’s going to kill me.”

Ah. That explains the punch.“You were held prisoner,” Newt says softly, “that’s bound to leave scars.”

“That doesn’t make this okay! Chasing shadows in my own house? I could’ve killed you, Newt.” It's the fact that it's true that keeps Newt quiet. Percival’s exceptionally talented with wandless magic. It’s a miracle Newt’s lip was the only thing bleeding. If Percival had slipped, he could be in much worse shape.

“Wendi?” He calls quietly. The tiny elf seems as surprised to see him in Percival’s room as Newt feels when she appears. “Could you please put on a pot of tea for Percival and me? I think we could both use something to calm the nerves.” Wendi nods and disappears.

“I don’t need your pity,” Percival says softly.

“Good, I wasn’t offering it.” Newt steels himself. He’s endured worse, he tells himself. He steps forward carefully, making sure to telegraph his movements. He approaches Percival like he would any injured creature, making sure to stay in his line of sight. His knees hit the wide mattress and he crawls the rest of the way until he's in front of his husband.

“It's not weakness to feel pain, Percival,” he says, “you've been through so much. More than any one man should have to bear."

He reaches out slowly until his fingertips graze Percival's cheek. To his surprise, Percival leans into the contact. He sighs when he feels Newt cup his jaw. 

Percival's eyes slip shut as he exhales. Newt figures he should go back to his room to avoid any awkwardness but when he goes to move, Percival’s arms squeeze him tight. He doesn't speak but gently tugs newt until they're lying next to each other, Newt’s fingers still on Percival's cheek.

Wendi appears shortly after with the tea set. If she finds it strange to see them together, she doesn't say. Newt appreciates the discretion. 

\--

Waking up next to Percival is a novel experience. The man isn’t nearly as intimidating with his hair a mess and his normally stern face at rest. Newt presses himself further into Percival’s warmth and decides he should really sleep in once in a while.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this done before Sept. 1st but that didn't happen. Classes have started back and I'm neck deep in my practicum so chapters are slow. I hope that's okay!

Percival blinks awake slowly, sunlight creeping through his curtains. He’s alone in bed much to his disappointment. He finds himself wondering groggily how long Newt stayed last night. Did he leave the moment Percival finally fell asleep or did he slip away at the first peek of morning light? Percival can’t say he’s ever truly imagined what it would be like to share his bed with Newt even in the most innocent of contexts. 

He doesn’t allow his mind to drift to the not so innocent. 

It’s a Saturday morning so he doesn’t have to head into work until noon. Part of him doesn’t want to go in at all. He wouldn’t mind enjoying a nice breakfast in Newt’s company before dealing with a drudging workday. He’d prefer it actually.

“Your husband is thinking you might be wanting breakfast in bed. He said to wait for you to wake up.” Wendi appears before Percival at the edge of the bed. She has a tray laden with food that she sets before him and disappears. Newt's always been able to anticipate him, he thinks, fondness washing through him.

He’s grateful for the thought and eats like a starving man. The nightmares usually leave him drained and he doesn’t think there’s enough toast in the world to chase the feeling away. Newt's comfort from the night before has staved off most of the damage.

“Wendi?” He calls after he’s more than halfway through his plate. She reappears instantly, little hands on her hips. “Thank you for breakfast,” he says, “and where is Newt?"

“Off to work with young Credence,” she informs him. 

The disappointment is back. 

“It’s Saturday,” Percival says more to himself than to her. Newt normally doesn’t go into the office on the weekends. 

“I is sure they’ll be back soon.” Wendi doesn’t shrug but detects the amusement all the same. They probably will but by then, Percival will be on his way as well. 

A shame.

-

He’s pulling on his work coat when Newt and Credence come chattering through the front door. It’s a relief to see them together in good spirits. Credence looks more at ease than Percival has ever seen him.

“Newt, if you wouldn’t mind joining me in my office for a moment before I leave?” Percival requests softly. He loathes to separate Newt from a friend (one of the few Percival thinks he has) but this will be a conversation better had in private.

Newt ushers Credence on upstairs before following Percival into his office. His cheeks are pink from the chill outside and Percival remembers winter is swiftly settling in.

“Thank you for,” he struggles to find the words. How does he describe what Newt managed to give him the night before? The comfort? The understanding? “Thank you for last night,” he says instead and groans internally. When will he ever not trip over his own tongue?

“Of course. I'm glad you were able to sleep a little bit better,” Newt wrings his hands he crosses the small room to take a seat on the bench next to the window, “I’ve been worried about you.”

Shame curls between Percival’s shoulders like a beast and digs its claws in. He settles into the space next to Newt on the small window seat.

“It hasn’t been my intention to worry you. Quite the opposite actually,” he mumbles not meeting his husband's eyes. He feels Newt's hand against his cheek before he sees it. His hands are still cold. 

“I know that wasn't your intention, Percival. That wasn't what I meant to imply. It doesn’t stop me from worrying though. Just ask Theseus. I’ll always worry about the people I care about.” Newt’s fingers just barely graze his cheek, almost like an afterthought. 

Percival wants so badly to stay in this moment, to linger in Newt's orbit for just a few minutes more.

“If you don't go now, you'll be late to work,” Newt’s voice breaks through the silence.

“I'd rather not go in at all.”

“Now, I know that's not true,” Newt drops his hand and the moment ends, “besides, I don't trust anyone to look after the welfare of MACUSA better than you.”  

That brings a smile to Percival’s lips.

“For you then,” he says softly.

For Newt, he thinks, he would do anything.   
\--

A week passes. 

In that time Percival gets word that Grindelwald’s been successfully moved to Azkaban. They assure him that there’s no way for him to escape. It’s a small comfort but comfort nonetheless. He requests that Theseus keeps him abreast of any changes.

Sera slips into his office. She’s avoiding her secretary, she says as she settles onto his couch.  

“There’s a gala coming up soon,” she tells him, “something about fundraising. I expect you’ll be able to attend?” Her tone leaves no room for argument. She knows Percival hates the society events.

“I’m assuming a decision has already been made for me and this is just you telling me so I can have my robes fitted in time,” he sighs.

“You are quite the detective, Director Graves. Perhaps your sweetheart could join us this time around. Everyone will be looking for the _ professor _ now that they know he exists.” Her voice is sly but playful. He refuses to rise to the bait.

“He isn’t fond of crowds but I’ll ask of course.” Newt would never go. He'd rather die than deal with a room full of pompous witches and wizards.  He’s worked sixteen hour day justs to avoid dinner with Percival’s parents.

“Excellent. I’m sure you’ll both be there. It’s always  lovely talking to you, Percy.” She steals from his office, leaving Percival at a loss. How the hell is he going to get Newt to go to a gala?

\-- 

Percival drags himself back home much later than he anticipated. He wants to go straight to bed but stops in the kitchen to find himself something to eat. Winky and Newt had left him out a plate for which he was eternally grateful.

He hears a shuffling down the stairs.

“You have to go back. If Percival lays eyes on you, he'll be absolutely furious.” Percival’s never heard Newt whisper so fiercely and frankly, he’s too exhausted to be furious about much of anything. Really. It’s been hellish at work intercepting a magical smuggling ring. He just wants to relax. He hears Newt shuffling around and pulling on his coat.

“Newt? Is something wrong? Are you going somewhere?” He calls from the kitchen. Best to get things out in the open quickly.

“No! Everything’s fine! I just have to make a quick run back to the office. I shouldn’t be long at all. Don’t worry!” Newt calls.  

“It’s almost ten, Newt,” Percival says as he checks the clock, “whatever it is can wait until morning, I think,” he protests.

“I won’t be gone long!”

“Newt-” Percival steps out of the kitchen to see the strangest thing he’s seen all day.

 

It’s a bowtruckle, of all things, clinging to Newt’s lapel like a lifeline.

“He snuck into my pocket from work. Attachment issues we think. I'll make sure he's returned quickly.” He covers the bowtruckle with his hand as if to hide it from Percival’s gaze. “I can take him back now if you'd prefer. I know you don't care for pests.” 

Ah. 

So that's what this is. 

“It's fine, Newt. He's fine,” Percival assures him. Really. A bowtruckle is the least of his worries.

Newt eyes him warily.

“I've never seen a bowtruckle before," Percival says after a few moments, the silence killing him, “outside of books, that is.”

“We have a tree for them at work,” Newt responds absently, “Pickett’s always afraid the others as going to bully him no matter how much I tell him they won’t.”

“Pickett?” Percival chuckles, “ you named him?” Of course, he did. Only Newt could be friends with a bowtruckle.

“I name all my creatures. Even the ones only in my care for a little while.” And at the moment, Newt grants the creature something he's never given Percival: the softest and most gentle of smiles. Newt has never smiled at him with such kindness, such open affection. 

Percival refuses to be jealous of a sentient twig.

He clears his throat awkwardly.

“Well, Pickett then.”

“Yes. I'll find a spot for him tonight. He won't disturb you, I promise.”

“I’m not worried, Newt. I bring enough of my work home to know these things happen.”

Newt’s face does something strange but he nods all the same.

“Alright. The morning then,” he agrees, “I’ll just set Pickett up for the night then.” He shuffles away from Percival, back up the stairs, and out of Percival’s sight.

\--

Newt’s door is still open when Percival finally drags himself to his bedroom. He’s standing at his dresser wand in hand, his mouth curling around incantations. 

Percival makes himself known with a knock before entering.

“Ah, a containment spell. You’ve altered it.”

Newt finally meets his eyes, a shy smile on his face, “I use it at work. I hate cages. I want my creatures to be comfortable I wish I could find a way to get them all back to their original homes.”

“Of course you do, ” Percival breathes, enchanted by Newt’s unmistakable ingenuity. He examines the enclosure with care, his fingers skating around the edges. 

“I'm sure you could do something much more, Percival. Mother always says I'm much better suited to magic of the domestic sort.”

Percival frowns at that. “This is a brilliant piece of magic, Newt. You've even given it its own climate. I'm not sure I could do this.” He means it. What could this man have done had he been allowed to stay underneath Dumbledore’s tutelage, he wonders. Newt’s got an arsenal of creative spells that shock Percival with their sheer usefulness. 

He watches how Newt flushes at the praise, tries to ignore how that blush makes him feel, “I’m sure you could conjure circles around this little spell, Percival. Wandlessly, even.”

“I’m not so sure. You’re much more creative than I am.” He stands back up to his full height,  a sudden bout of nervousness coming over him. He hadn’t planned to ask but seeing Newt, so loose and free weakens his resolve. 

“Can you-will you...can you stay the night? With me, I mean.” He stumbles over the words and immediately regrets the ask.

Newt doesn’t balk at the request thankfully. “If that's what you need, Percival,” he says, “of course I’ll stay. As long as you need me.” 

Percival feels selfish. It’s greedy asking Newt for this. Always asking for comfort and giving nothing in return. The shame sticks with him as he stands in his bedroom, as he pulls on his pajamas, and as he gets himself ready for bed.

Newt joins him about 15 minutes later dressed in satiny, sky blue pajamas, a toothbrush in his mouth. 

_ He looks best in blue _ , Percival thinks to himself. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the same side as last time  or…?” Newt asks.

“That’s fine. Really. Wherever you’re most comfortable,” Percival says awkwardly. He gives a slight wave of his hand and the room goes dark. Percival lays down stiffly.

Newt climbs into bed next to him and buries himself under the covers. Minutes tick by, tense and uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to stay over there,” Newt says after a few more moments, his voice is quiet and hesitant.

Percival doesn't respond but shuffles himself closer and buries into Newt’s warmth. 

After a few moments, he feels Newt's fingers against his scalp. He began moving his fingers in slow, soft circles.

“Is this okay?” He whispers.

Any words Percival has get stuck in his throat. He just leans further into Newt’s space.

He falls asleep that way.

It's the best sleep he's gotten in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [my side tumblr that's dedicated to art and fic.](http://bittlebarnes.tumblr.com/)   
>  [my main tumblr that's all fandom junk.](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

Newt stood at the edge of the bed and wondered. Should he undress? Should he allow his new husband to do that part for him? He tried to calm his frantic breathing but found he couldn’t, his lungs aching for air as he fell against the cool sheets. 

The wedding had ended just hours ago. He had crossed a sea with his new husband and in a just a day, they would be traveling again for a  _ honeymoon _ . For now he found himself in Percival’s-no,  _ their _ \- bedroom. 

He was married.

He was going to lose his virginity. Relinquish it to a man who would never really want it but instead would use him as some sort of baby maker. He could do this. He had to do this. His parents were counting on him. Theseus was counting on him. 

The door clicked open and he heard Percival’s soft steps.

“Newton?”

“Newt,” Newt reminded him, his breath coming in short quick bursts. “My. Name is. Newt.”

“Are you alright Newt? You’ve gone pale.” Percival pressed the back of his hand to Newt’s forehead. “Why don’t you get up. I’ll show you to your room and you can rest. It’s been a tiring day.”

“My room?” Newt inquired softly, “will I not be sharing your bed? As your husband.”

“I think it’d be better for  _ both _ of us if we slept in separate rooms for the foreseeable future. For both our sakes.” Newt swallowed the lump in his throat and stumbled to his feet. Percival didn’t touch him again, carefully placed both his hands behind his back before turning on his heel out of the room.

The home they would share in the city was so very different from the home Newt had known. It was two stories, stacked with modern and no doubt expensive furniture. Royal blues and crisp grays covered the walls and accents. The Graves's must favor silver, Newt thought, as much of the trinkets he found were made of the metal. Newt’s room was on the second floor clear down the hall from Percival’s room, a library, an office, and a spare room between them. Newt was grateful for the distance.

“There are fresh linens in the closet. We will have to share a bathroom but hopefully that won’t cause any trouble. If it causes you distress I could have construction done-”

“No. It won’t be a problem,” Newt averted his gaze. He could keep his tears to himself, he thought. They would be wasted here. This was his life now.

 

\--

 

Percival curls against him that night and it feels  _ right _ . 

So _ why  _ is Newt so tense?

Hesitant. Nervous.  _ What’s really changed _ , he thinks. Percival is seeking comfort, reassurance,  _ balance _ . That makes sense, Newt thinks, given everything he’s endured. 

But this can’t last (no matter how much he wants it to).

Newt wakes before Percival does and hurriedly disentangles himself from the older man’s embrace. He pauses at the edge of the bed, turns back to observe his husband at rest.  _ These things happen, _ Percival had said. A few short years ago Percival would’ve lost his top at Pickett’s sudden appearance the night before. ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Newt tells himself, steadfastly refuses to ponder Percival's sudden  _ understanding  _ as he takes his leave _.  _ People don’t change.

 

\--

 

“There’s going to be a gala,” Percival says over dinner the next night. 

“Oh. That’ll be nice. You’ll need a new suit” Newt replies absently, “I’m sure Wendi could set that in order for you.” Percival always gets invited to the events of high society. 

“Yes. I think she could find a nice piece for you as well.” A moment passes. Credence looks up from the textbook Newt let him borrow before excusing himself from the table. Newt wishes he’d thought of that first.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Newt says slowly, setting down his fork, “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“The President has informed me that, given that it was you who apprehended Grindelwald, there’s an expectation that you will join me,” Percival says slowly, a nervous lilt to his voice.

Newt frowns. “Percival, you know I don’t enjoy parties and frankly, I’m no use at them.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Newt. Regardless, I have to go and the President won’t be pleased with me if I show up alone.” Percival’s voice is stern. 

Ah.  So that’s it. “So I don’t have a choice.”

“Of course you have a choice, Newt.” Percival assures him. 

No he doesn’t. 

“I’ll have Wendi prepare something for both of us, then,” Newt aquiesses, tension radiating through him. Percival nods sharply before going back to his food. 

No. People don’t change at all. 

\--

Newt feels like he’s suffocating. It’s still traditional for Omegan spouses to wear high collars, no matter how uncomfortable they are. The suit Wendi, and by extension Percival (he’s sure), has chosen for him is a soft, grayish blue like the sky on a cloudy day. There’s a matching coat and set of gloves.

At least he doesn’t look as miserable as he feels wandering the ballroom, keeping a gentle hand on Percival’s extended elbow. They’ve transfigured the first floor of MACUSA headquarters into one of the most splendid ballrooms Newt’s ever seen.  There’s low music playing. Something jazzy and upbeat that Newt can’t quite get his ears around while people clamber into his space for a moment of Percival’s attention. 

Though he claims to hate these events, Percival is a master of them, Newt sees. He’s friendly but not overly so, confident but not boastful. Dressed in classic black with silver accents, he’s undeniably handsome. He gives them just enough of himself. Newt finds himself wondering, again, how any of these people could have believed Grindelwald’s sham.

_ Because everyone’s a liar here,  _ he thinks. Grindelwald will have fit right in telling people what they want to hear all while managing his own interest. Apparently Percival fits here too.

“Newt, where did you go?” Percival’s soft voice pulls him from his reverie. He’s smiling gently, his expression amused. “You drifted away.”

“Hm, oh. I was listening to the music,” Newt replies to. His response is met with laughter from the small group around them.

“Scamander right? The younger one of course?” Someone says. He’s a short, potbellied wizard with quite the mustache. Newt nods, not trusting his voice. “Yes, we’re hearing great things about your brother. He must  be  _ very _ impressed with you.”

“Theseus is indeed,” Percival interjects as he lowers his arm and drops his hand to the small of Newt’s back. “Truly, the relationship between MACUSA and the Ministry has never been better.”

“Thanks to you, of course, Percival,” a woman says from next to them, interest clear in her eyes.

“We’re a large organization, Ms. Williams. I’m just doing my part.” 

Newt tucks a curl behind his ear and looks around the room. There’s a waiter with a tray carrying flutes of gigglewater.

“Excuse me,” he says softly with a smile that  _ might  _ look more like a grimace and takes his leave.

He manages to flag down the waiter on the other side of the  ballroom.

“I’ll take one of those as well,” a woman says from behind him. Her accent’s thick and unfamiliar. 

Newt grabs two glasses and passes her one. 

“Quite the party,” she says, a playful smile pulling at her lips, “the boys up this way really know how to have a good time.”

“I suppose,” Newt says neutrally. She extends a delicate hand. He shakes it.

“Margot Talbot, from Louisville. My father’s around here somewhere but who knows. I’m right bored.” She shrugs, her pink dress swishing. 

“I’m Newt. I work at the University.” 

“Newt? Well that’s a funny name innit? I haven't seen you around this season. And that accent? You  _ must _ be from the Ministry. Guest Lecturing?” She inches even closer, taking slow sips from her glass.

“Oh no. I’m here on my husband’s invitation,” Newt assures her, “he’s American. He’s from MACUSA.”

“A shame,”  she looks him up and down, blue eyes analyzing Newt like he’s under a microscope, “an auror?”

“Yes. He runs the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. I’m certain he’s around here somewhere if you have questions for him. He’s been taking them all night,” Newt looks around the ballroom hoping to make eye contact with  _ anyone  _ he knows. 

“ _ You’re _ Percival  _ Graves’s _ husband,” her voice is suddenly much colder and Newt prays for an escape. He knows that tone well. Disgust. Disappointment. He’s heard it his whole life.  

“Yes, I  _ have _ heard about you,” she goes on, ignoring his obvious discomfort, “you were  _ expelled _ right? From that British school?”

“I think I should go?” He croaks.

“So you’re the reason Claudius shot down my marriage offer for his son. A more than generous one, mind you. What is a man of Percival Graves’s status doing with a  _ thing  _  like you?” She says so loud that people near  turn around to see the commotion. Newt’s spent quite a bit of his life feeling small. This shouldn't feel new or surprising. He should be  _ used _ to it and yet the humiliation burns bright and new.

He doesn’t respond, just flees, panic seeping into every corner of his flesh. Out the door and down the steps into the cool air. Winter is quickly settling in but Newt feels overwhelmingly hot, tugging at his collar. The air seems to be getting thicker?

His feet carry him with no rhyme or reason, trying not to knock into pedestrians on the sidewalk. A patch of greenery catches his eye and Newt heads towards it hoping for a place to catch his breath. It’s a small garden, set up like a circle with a MACUSA donor’s plaque sitting prominently in the center.  Newt forgoes any of the benches surrounding the plaque and settles in the grass as far back as he can go. The bushes are tall, blocking his view of the street. He wraps his arms around his knees and focuses on his breathing. He should have just gone home. The tears come before he can stop them and merlin, he feels so stupid. Always crying over something he can't control.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been there when he feels something pulling at his coat. He looks down to see the backside of a niffler, its head buried in his pocket. 

“There's nothing in there,” he laughs wetly,  “it’s a new coat I’m afraid.” The niffler spies his watch and makes to grab at his wrist. “Oh no, this is borrowed. My husband wouldn’t be pleased, you understand. You can look though.” He holds out his hand and lets the creature examine the intricate silver timepiece. The moon is visible through the trees. It’s just a crescent but the light is enough. He lets his eyes slip shut and tries to keep his breathing regulated. 

 

\--

 

Newt’s just about to fall asleep when a ball of light gets his attention. It’s Percival weaving in between the bushes, wand held aloft to guide his path. His tie’s loose and his hair’s fallen from its clever coiffure. 

“Newt, I wondered where you ran off to.” His smile is relieved. “Tina seemed to think you’d probably wandered all the way to the University but I was certain you hadn’t gotten far. Then I remembered our recent  _ creature  _ problem. Sure enough, here you are.” The niffler seems to take issue with being called a problem and begins to squeak indignantly.  “I’m sure Wendi will appreciate the grass stains. A challenge for her.” Percival’s voice is light but Newt knows him well enough to sense the concern beneath it. How long has be been gone? How many people are looking for him? At least Tina. Newt stumbles to his feet, brushing off the dirt and vanishing the stains with a quick flick of his wand.  

“I needed some air,” he says. Percival sees right through him, a careful uptick of his eyebrow signaling his disbelief. “Your friends didn’t seem to like me much,” he finally admits, “I figured I’d spend some time with this one.” He gestures to the niffler, “a bit more in my element.” 

“I don’t have many friends here tonight. Tina, Sera…” Percival shakes his head and extends his elbow. “Why don’t we say goodnight to  _ your _ new friend and discuss this at home. It’s far too late to be out in this cold.”

“I thought you couldn’t apparate on MACUSA property?” Newt grips Percival’s elbow and braces for a side-along.

“It pays to be a director.”

They appear on their doorstep with a light pop. No matter how long they’ve been together, Newt will never get used to side-alongs.

“Wendi, can you please put the kettle onto boil and let Credence know we’re home?” Percival says once they enter the house. He takes Newt’s coat and hangs it up. Newt shivers until a sudden warmth engulfs him. A warming charm. Percival guides him gently into the sitting room and settles them both on the couch.

“Now,” he says after a moment, “do you want to tell me what happened tonight or are we going to pretend you’re okay?”

“I told you,” Newt replies softly.

“You said someone was unkind to you. Who was it? Who made you cry?” Newt’s hand jumps to his face but there are no tears. How could Percival have known?

“You’re eyes are red. Cheeks too but that could be from the cold. Eyes, not so much,” Percival informs him. Wendi appears with a tea tray and Newt accepts the offered cup. “My question still stands. Who did this?”

“I believe her name was Margot,” Newt finally admits, “an Omega who said she proposed herself to you.” 

Percival’s eyes narrow as he lets out an annoyed sigh, “Margot isn’t a friend, Newt. She’s not even associated with MACUSA. I have no idea why she was there tonight. She had no right to be disrespectful to you.” Percival drags a hand through his hair, thoroughly running it, Newt laments. 

“She seemed to know your father,” Newt presses.

“Yes. He helped to facilitate her proposal. Which I rejected,” Percival shrugs and leans back against the couch cushions. 

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? Percival chose  _ him _ . So why does Newt feel so bad?

“I’m just curious, Percival,” Newt says quietly,  “it’s silly but she’s beautiful. Why did you pursue me instead? Surely she had political connections that could have benefited you as well?”

Percival’s face does something strange, “Margot wasn’t an option when you and I met, Newt. She was still married to some Alpha from one of the Carolinas.”

Wait. Newt suddenly sits up straighter, suspicion creeping into his mind, “then  _ when _ did you consider her proposal?”

Percival’s gaze flickers down and Newt knows the answer.

“Around last year. I told you, my father introduced us,” Percival admits quietly. A year ago? When Percival was considering leaving him? Was Margot the only introduction or were there more? How many other Omegas had Percival considered? Theseus's warnings of a second omega reared their ugly heads, echoing through Newt’s mind.

“And you considered it,” Newt says, feeling hollow.

“Newt-Artemis-”

“ _ Percival _ , did you consider it?”

“For only a moment! And then I rejected it.”

Of course. It was too good to be true. Newt should’ve known. “I see,” he says.

“No, Newt-” Percival stops when Newt holds up his hand.

“Percival, I am going upstairs. I am going to bed. I would prefer not to see you right now. Or at all. For a while.” He dutifully sets his teacup back down onto Wendi’s tray and leaves. 

Percival doesn’t follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got feelings? Visit me at either:  
> [my side tumblr that's dedicated to art and fic.](http://bittlebarnes.tumblr.com/)  
> [my main tumblr that's all fandom junk.](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo lord I do not like this chapter. It's shorter but angst is so hard to write and this is necessary but lordy I just wanna skip to the part where they bang. 
> 
> Midterms and paper writing are in full swing. This has been half finished in the drafts folder for like month but I'm just now "finishing" it. Thanks for sticking with me.

Well, shit.

They’d been doing so _well_.

Percival actually fears Newt’s ability to stonewall so quickly, so effectively. It’s like a switch flips and suddenly Percival doesn’t have a spouse anymore. He remembers clearly how cold their marriage could be before he was taken by Grindelwald, how they could go weeks without talking. Percival would rather fight it out, keep Newt in front of him and battle through it. He’s a soldier at heart, a warrior. He likes to face his opponent on all fronts and brawl.

Newt? Newt always retreats, always shuts down and backs away before Percival can get two words in.

This. This is worse. He _knows_ it can be better. _Wants_ it to be better. Guilt eats at him but what else could he do? What’s done is done. It’s Newt’s choice now.

It feels like it’s always Newt’s choice.

 

\--

 

Percival buttoned the last button on his coat before checking his watch. He’d been waiting for Newt for almost half an hour. If they didn’t hurry, they’d be late. Percival didn’t want to deal with his parent’s passive aggressiveness any more than he was already going to have to.

It was Newt's first time spending Christmas with Percival's family. They’d been married almost six months so it would be Newt’s first time experiencing one of Percival's major family traditions.

“Newt?” He called up the stairs, “are you coming?”

“I’m nearly done! I’ll be down in a moment!”

“Well, _please_ hurry along. We’re going to be late.” Percival tried to say it gently but he was deeply frustrated. They'd been talking about this for weeks but Newt still seemed resistant.

“I’m here!” Newt said as he quickly descended the staircase.

“Do you have everything you need?” Percival pressed.

“Yes, Percival.” There’s something sour in Newt’s tone that plucks at Percival's nerves. He studied Newt's face but there’s nothing there. Newt keeps his expression carefully blank but the mask isn’t perfect.

“Is there something you’d like to say?” He tries.

A subtle narrowing of Newt’s eyes gives him away.

“Of course not.”

Now, that? _That’s_ a lie.

“Newt, if you have something to say, please go ahead and say it.”

“You asked me that already Percival and I told you no. Can we please go now?”

No.

“Okay.”

Percival regrets not pushing. He’s never pushed before and Newt has never freely given.

 

Maybe it's time to start pushing.

 

\--

 

“Did you at least apologize?” Tina asks when he brings it up to her.

What a ridiculous question. Of course he apologized. “Yes, Goldstein,” he said, rolling his eyes. It’s another late night in his office and he’s got no one else to vent to.  His parents would just tell him to seize the opportunity and leave which is exactly what he _doesn’t_ want to do. He’s considering pulling out the scotch but coming home drunk might not work in his favor either.  He thought she’d have _good_ suggestions.

Queenie slips into his office balancing three trays from the cafeteria downstairs and plops down onto the couch next to her sister. “You know better,” she says as she sets the trays down on his desk.

“I apologized!”  Percival protests.

“Percival Graves, don't you dare lie to my sister,” Queenie chastises him before tapping her temple.

Percival thinks hard, winces when Newt's hurt expression enters his mind, but suffers through it nonetheless.

Shit.

“Shit.”

“Exactly,” Queenie just shakes her head at him, “honestly, you knew this was going to be a problem when miss moneybags came around. Apologize. Promise to be better. Newt seems like a peach, he’ll get over it.”

“I can’t apologize to someone who won’t talk to me,” Percival laments, “it’s been a week and he still won’t so much as glance in my direction.”

“This man literally went into a war zone but is _afraid_ -”

“I’m not afraid, Queenie. Don’t say that.”

“Afraid of his sweet little Omega _!_ Honestly. Newt may be taller than you but he’s really only this big,” she holds up her hand, showing about and inch of space between her thumb and her index finger.

Percival groans, setting his head in his hands, “how did it get this bad?” He grouses aloud.

“Getting married for the wrong reasons?”

“Not appreciating your relationship?”

Tina and Queenie talk over one another and Percival has _had it_ with being the bad guy _._

“I value my relationship! I wouldn’t still be in it if I didn’t! I wouldn’t be this upset if I didn’t! People enter marriage agreements every day for all types of different reasons! This isn’t a special situation. Newt got something out of us being married too!”

“Losing his family and friends?” Tina asks, unconvinced.

“No!” Percival protests, “Newt wanted to leave his family. They were driving him crazy. His mother was desperate to get him into a marriage agreement. I didn’t force Newt to marry me. He married me because of the convenience, the comforts I could offer him. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. Margot was a mistake, I admit but...what else was supposed to happen?” “

“Exactly, I was right,” Tina presses, “consider this my argument against arranged marriages of _any_ kind. Sure, you get married for political connections and he gets married for the resources you provide. You both got those things. Politics and resources don’t sustain a marriage, Percival. You’re at a point where you want more and Newt’s content just to be celibate the rest of his life.” 

“Please don’t shrink me, Goldstein. That’s nomaj nonsense.” Percival shakes his head at her.

“Do you all ever just talk?”

“We live in the same damn house, Queenie, of course we talk.”

“That's not what she means and you know it. About things that matter.”

“About _feelings,_ ” Queenie adds.

“What feelings? This isn’t about feelings.”

“Newt's feelings,” Tina reminds him, “you should know. You stomped all over them.”

“Intentionally.”

“It was _not_ intentional!”

“Does he know that? Does Newt have friends? Besides the witness taking up your guest room? You're all he has and he finds out you were considering trading him away? You gotta know that's fucked up, Percy.”

“You know you sound like an asshole, right?”

It’s not the first time Percival’s heard that before.

“Don't call me Percy. I hate that,” he groans, leaning back in his leather chair. “You make it sound terrible.”

Queenie quirks a perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“Don’t sass me, Percy.”

“Aw, leave him alone. Look at his wheels turning. You two are gonna be okay,” Queenie sends him a soft smile, “things get worse before they get better.”

Percival wants to believe that. Needs to believe that.

He and Newt could be so _good_ together. He sees flashes of it when they both have their guards down, sees flashes of something that could work.

“You can have that,” Queenie says, “you’ve just got to weather the storm.”

Percival hopes she’s right.

 

\--

 

He doesn’t see Newt again until late the next day. He's in their sitting room, curled up on their couch with a novel.

“Newt,” he says softly.

“Percival,” Newt’s voice is as cold as the wind outside. He's home for the winter holidays. He’s traded out his work clothes for a comfy robe, soft satin pajamas, and loose curls. He looks good. Percival tries not to let it distract him. He dreads his family Christmas dinner especially now that he and Newt are at odds again. This year, he’ll have no allies at the table.

He clears his throat, “I-it's been brought to my attention that I failed to apologize to you. For my behavior.”

Newt doesn’t blink. He _does_ close his book and set it on the small table beside the couch. “It's fine, Percival.”

“It's really not and besides, I've been given advice that I should try...talking to you. So I’m sorry about Margot. That shouldn’t have happened.”

Newt nods, his face unchanging, “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No. That's not all. I also wanted to discuss...the circumstances of our marriage,” Percival takes a hesitant seat at the opposite end of the couch, “and about whether or not those circumstances can change.”

Newt’s head tilts minutely, those green eyes narrowing. “What circumstances would those be?”

“We both entered this union for less than romantic reasons-”

There goes the switch. Newt stands suddenly and leaves the room, his robe _swishing_.

' _Not this time._ ' Percival thinks. It's time to push.

Percival’s hot on his heels, into the kitchen, the dining room. Percival doesn’t mean to corner him but enough is _enough_. There’s a hunted look on Newt’s face, his eyes flickering around the room, searching for an exit. “Leave me alone, Percival!” He demands, his voice shakey.

“That’s what I’ve done for the last week and it hasn't gotten us anywhere!”

“And who’s fault is that! We wouldn’t be here if it wasn't for _you_!”

Percival is _tired_ . All of the problems in their marriage are _not_ his fault. Are quite a few of them? Definitely. Are most of them? Quite possibly. Are all of them? Absolutely not. Newt has blame there too.

“You betrayed me,” Newt says it with such finality, like it’s such a fact.

“Don’t do that,” Percival warns him, his voice low, “don’t accuse me of something I didn’t do.”

Apparently, it’s the wrong thing to say because, for the first time, Newt seems to puff up, hackles raised, “yes you did! You ran off with that woman-”

“I did not! I _chose_ you! I had options and I picked you every fucking time. Just like you did! Or did you _not_ settle for me for the sole purpose of getting away from your mother!”

Newt looks as if he’s been slapped, “that is not, it’s not-”

“It is and it was! We both know that!”  

“I didn’t have a choice!” Newt yells.

In all their years of marriage. Percival's never once heard Newt raise his voice. It startles him for a moment. Just a moment.

“Yes, you did!” He insists.

“What options did I have, Percival? Live in that house with people who despise me for something that wasn’t even really my fault? Marry someone else who wouldn’t give me freedom, who’d turn me into some kind of sex slave? Or marry you? Someone who’d never love me but would keep me safe! That’s not a choice, Percival and you know it! We made promises to each other. I trusted you! I don’t trust anyone in this world but I trusted you. Percival Graves might not be the nicest of men but at least he has integrity. At least he’ll keep his word. You wouldn’t even do that. Not for me!”

It’s like a punch to the gut for Percival. He feels his hands start to shake. His _whole body_ starts to shake. He’s angry and humiliated and so fucking _sad_.

“I wanted to love you,” he says, the words almost getting stuck in his throat, “I wanted you to love me too.”

Newt actually laughs but its a humorless thing, weak and defeated. “Now, you’re definitely the one who’s lying.”

Percival tries to find his composure but Newt has no right to call him a liar. This is the most honest he's _ever_ been.

“You told me what you wanted from me the day we met, Percival Graves and I believed you. Were you lying then or are you lying now?”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I actually titled chapters, this chapter would be titled "Fallout." Because of that, this chapter is the first one that includes both Percival and Newt's perspectives. I don't plan to make that a habit and I hope it's not super jarring. Thanks.

“ _ I wanted to love you. I wanted you to love me too. _ ” 

Newt can’t get Percival’s trembling confession out of his head. How dare he, Newt grumbles. How  _ dare _ he pretend.  Newt had fired back, his words ricocheting off the dining room flatware and embedding into the both of them like shrapnel. Percival hadn’t even answered, just scoffed and left Newt standing in the corner. He’d stood there for almost another three minutes, chest heaving before finally pulling himself together.  

It feels like battle lines have been clearly drawn across the floors of their home. Percival probably feels more comfortable this way, Newt thinks bitterly as he lays in bed.

Newt’s tried his hardest to avoid the verbal duels. He’s been reserved his entire life, more comfortable to fade into the background than to openly engage. Separate from others. After his expulsion, his parents had encouraged his quiet. Some days, Newt felt that if he sat quiet enough, maybe they’d forget he was there. 

It’s different with Percival. It always has been, Newt thinks. Percival burns hot and fast, quick to swell with irritation, a flash flood waiting to happen. Newt has never entertained it. At the first signs of a storm, he’s always rushed for shelter. Sealed up inside himself far away from anyone’s reach.

The remnants of their fight rattle around in his head, claw at the inside of his skull and refuse to leave. Newt recalls being cornered like that only once before in his lifetime. The last time, it’d resulted in his expulsion. 

He refuses to let it happen again. Not from Percival. Not from anyone.  

Love? What the hell does Percival know about love? Newt was stupid to think they could ever have anything more. He’s  _ angry. _ He’s so fucking angry. He hasn’t felt like this in years. How could Percival just stand in front of him and fucking lie like that? How could he pretend? If Percival had wanted his love...truly, he would have said so years ago.

Newt sleeps fitfully, unable to find true rest amid the conflict soaking into the walls of their home. He dreams of faraway places and traded smiles. He wakes feeling even less at peace than when he went to bed. The Percival he’s known the last few months was a figment of his imagination, an illusion. The real man he married has returned. The man who tolerates him. Newt has to live with him. This is what he agreed to. As long as Percival agrees to honor their marriage contract, Newt has to as well. 

He sees Percival that morning when he goes down for breakfast. The man is seated at the kitchen table. He’s holding a copy of the newspaper in one hand and his normal coffee mug in the other. Credence is picking at a plate Wendi’s stacked high with breakfast. He grimaces at Newt’s arrival, his eyes darting to Percival before falling back to his plate. It dawns on Newt then that he would have been able to hear everything said the night before. Newt curls his robe tighter around his thin frame and steels himself. He can face Percival. He just has to find that quiet place inside himself, maintain his control. 

Percival’s glance flickers up. “Newt,” he says in a monotone voice. Though he sounds relaxed, Newt notes the subtle tremor of his hands. Percival is not quite comfortable either it seems. 

“Percival,” Newt replies easily, trepidation flaring in his belly. 

Percival looks back towards his paper, “I put the kettle on.”

“Thank you,” Newt says softly before moving towards the counter to steep himself a cup of tea.

The silence is deafening. 

Percival breaks it with a less than subtle clearing of his throat. 

“There is something I would care to discuss with you,” he says awkwardly.

“Oh?” Newt replies. He keeps his eyes focused on his tea. That’s a safe place. 

“Yes. There is the matter of my parent’s annual Christmas dinner,” Percival continues. His voice is careful but finite, “they still expect us.”

Newt picks his cup up from the counter and wonders if Wendi still likes him enough to possibly bring him breakfast in bed.  

“No,” he tells Percival absently before strolling out of the kitchen.

A beat passes before he hears Percival get up to follow. Great, now they’re playing this game again. 

“No?” The level of incredulity in Percival’s voice is honestly laughable. What did he honestly expect? Newt to sit sweetly across from his  _ awful _ parents like nothing’s changed?

_ Everything’s _ changed. 

“You wanted me to be honest,” Newt keeps his stride, winding throughout their home until he meets the staircase. He turns to face Percival then, “this is me being honest. I don’t want to sit across from the people who’ve been trying to have me thrown out on the street. I don’t think I should have to.”

“They’re not-”

“Arranging a marriage when you’re already married is extremely unkind and I don’t like it so,  _ no _ . You’ll be fine by yourself.” Newt tries to keep his nerve.

“And that’s that then? Decision made?” Percival says, disbelief clear on his face.

“It feels made to me. Have  a nice holiday, Percival.” Newt shrugs.  Newt gets halfway up the stairs when he hears Percival say his name. Newt sucks in a stabilizing breath before turning to face him.

Percival stands at the foot of this stairs. His face is tired but earnest. “Newt...I won’t go without you.”

Newt pauses, his fingers digging into the soft fabric of his robe. No. He doesn’t want to give ground. He shouldn’t have to.

“Then I guess you’re not going,” he replies. Percival’s brow furrows then relaxes. 

“If that’s what you want. We can spend the holidays at home then. You, me, and Credence.” A concession from Percival is rare and strange. Newt isn’t sure if he’s being given something or if he’s being tricked. “You’re right,” Percival continues, “I can imagine you wouldn’t want to see my parents right now.”

Newt is stunned. He tries not to let it show.

“I appreciate you saying that,” he says softly, “thank you, Percival.” He’s surprised that he means it. For a moment, it’s like the last few days haven’t happened. It’s like they’re still in Percival’s office having dinner and Newt really  _ thinks _ -

“ _ I wanted to love you. I wanted you to love me too. _ ” 

Newt shoves that thought away. 

It’s all so confusing. Percival leaves him them, leaves him feeling all twisted up inside while he stands on the stairs. 

Why can’t things ever just be simple?

\--

Newt startles at the sound of breaking glass. He’s waist deep into one of the journals he’s been struggling to keep up with. Merlin, what has Credence stumbled into this time? Newt hurries to the kitchen, a healing spell already ready to spill over his lips when he sees Percival hunched over the kitchen table. His normal coffee mug is in pieces on the floor - not glass then - but it’s the paper that catches Newt’s eye. There, on the table looking wild and vicious, is the face of Gellert Grindelwald.  _ Escaped from Azkaban _ the headline reads.

\-- 

Percival's normally ironclad composure is in tatters. How could this happen? He knew he shouldn't have trusted, should've kept Grindelwald within his jurisdiction and executed him himself. So much for Ministry promises.

“Percival?”

He hadn't heard Newt come in. His voice is soft. Pitying. Percival hates it. 

“Please, Percival, you need to sit down. Let me clean up the mess.” Newt's hand is on his shoulder. He guides Percival to a chair, mends his mug with a quick flick of his wand. With another flick, the paper disappears in a wisp of flame and smoke.

“Percival...you need to breathe,” Newt says gently.

Percival thought he had been. On second thought, he does feel a bit light headed. He sucks a shuddering breath. It nearly sends him doubling over. Newt touches him again then, hands on both of Percival’s thighs. He’s on his knees trying to look Percival in the eye.

He’s saying something but Percival can’t hear him over the roaring in his ears. 

Grindelwald’s escaped. 

He feels the soft press of Newt’s forehead against his own. 

“Can you breathe with me?” Newt asks, his voice a whisper.

Percival tries. God, he tries to match the slow and measures countenance of Newt’s breathing. 

“Breathe,” Newt says again, firmer this time. It sounds like a command, one Percival is inclined to obey. They sit for what feels like hours while Percival tries to catch his breath. He focuses on Newt’s forehead touching his own, on his thin fingers digging into his thighs, and finally, on the slow in and out of his breath. 

“Can you stand?” Newt asks. 

Percival can’t find his voice so he just nods his head. Newt guides him to his feet, keeps a firm hand on his chest the entire time. He doesn’t remember climbing the stairs. Maybe Newt apparated but Percival thinks he would have remembered that too. 

He’s sitting on his bed. He feels Newt tugging at the laces of his shoes before pulling them off. His socks go next.  

“You should go,” he finally says, “you don’t have to look after me. I know you don’t want to.”

“Don’t be stupid. I’m still angry with you but that doesn’t mean I want you to suffer. You’re my  _ husband _ .”  Newt’s voice cracks at the end. “I don’t want-I don’t know what I want. Not this. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want you to be hurt.”

He says it like it’s a secret, like a confession rolling unwillingly off his tongue. Percival covets these little confessions. 

Newt comes into his bed without being asked. They don’t talk anymore about it. Emphatically don’t. Newt wraps his arms around Percival’s shoulders and even though they’re at odds, it’s comforting. Eventually, Percival’s shoulders ease, the tremors dissipating.  

There’s a chance Grindelwald won’t come for him. A chance. Percival closes his eyes and focuses instead on the slow sounds of Newt’s breathing. It lulls him to sleep.

When  Percival wakes, one of Newt’s arms is still around him. He carefully extricates himself from Newt’s embrace and gets to his feet. Exhaustion resettles on his shoulders almost instantly. He almost wishes he’d never woken. 

Newt, however, Newt looks like something out of a dream. One of those dreams Percival will never admit he has. Coppery curls fanned out against the sheets. Pale skin peeking from the edges of his pajamas. These ones are a  gauzy purple. He hadn’t noticed them the night before. Percival doesn’t remember Wendi picking them up so maybe they’re something Newt picked for himself? 

“You’re staring.” Percival refocuses his gaze. Newt’s eyes are open. 

“I know,” Percival sighs, “does it bother you?”

The shake of Newt’s head is subtle but it’s there. Why can’t it always be like this? Just them. No ugliness from the outside world. Percival knows there’s hell waiting for him at work. Everyone’s going to want his attention. Those that don’t will have nothing to offer but pity. Percival doesn’t think he has it in him to deal with that again.

“If you don’t start getting ready for work now, you’re going to be late. I let you sleep too late as is.” Even when they're at their worst, Newt can read him.  Newt makes no move to get out of his bed, just curls back against the sheets and closes his eyes.

The sinking feeling in Percival’s gut hasn't left. He thinks about getting up, about buttoning up his shirt, putting on his cufflinks and heading into work. Mercy Lewis, he doesn’t want to. 

And why should he have to?

Hasn’t he given enough of himself to MACUSA?

“I don’t think I want to go in today,” he says quietly.

“It’s going to be a nightmare cleaning this mess up. Let someone else do it,” Newt says in agreement. He eyes Percival carefully, still refusing to leave his spot. “Would it be strange if I asked you to come back to bed?”  

Yes. It’s fucking strange. Even though they’ve shared a bed plenty of times by now, even though Percival is intimately familiar with the weight of Newt in his arms, it feels like he’s plucking at a raw and exposed nerve. He’s still angry. 

He climbs back into bed and settles himself into Newt’s warmth.  He bites back a contented sigh when Newt’s fingers find their way into his hair. 

“Percival?” Newt whispers, “I wanted it too. I wanted you to love me. I wanted to love you too.” It’s so quiet, it almost doesn’t reach his ears.

Percival doesn’t want to break the moment. He closes his eyes and breathes. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe this fic has over a thousand kudos. I’m so grateful to everyone who follows this story. Truly. I’m also grateful that none of you leave those comments that are super demanding when it comes to updates? You’re all so patient and kind and it really gives me room to breathe and let this fic flow a bit more naturally rather than rushed. I promise I’ll respond to comments soon. My thesis has taken over my life so I’ve only had time to read them and not sit down to give you all good and honest replies. I want to get to it over break. I thought a lot about this chapter and where I want this story to go. I’ve also been drawing a bit so hopefully, there’ll be some art soon. Thanks for sticking with me - bb

Percival comes to awareness swathed in warmth. He’s alone. The curtains are drawn but he knows it’s dark outside. How long has he been asleep? For a moment, he feels nothing but bliss, floating in a world where everything is okay. Sleep is still on the horizon, slowly drawing him back to the depths. The dread creeps back in slowly, chasing away the last vestiges of any lingering dreams and working through his veins like ice until sheer panic pins him to the mattress. Grindelwald has escaped. It’s getting hard to breathe. 

Newt. 

He can hear Newt’s voice floating up from downstairs. He can’t make out any words but it’s definitely Newt talking. He focuses on the tone of Newt’s voice, lets it wash away the panic. It calms him just enough that he can slowly lift himself up, his elbows supporting him. The sheets are still warm - Newt hasn't been gone long. 

Percival drags himself out of the bed and groans, his bones creaking. He hasn’t felt this tired in years. How long did he sleep? He rubs at his face hoping to wipe the tired feelings away. It doesn’t work. The headache he went to bed with has yet to dissipate. He gets the feeling it’ll be sticking around as long as Grindelwald is outside of a prison cell. 

Wendi appears next to Percival’s bed, concern etched on her little face.

“Wendi is being worried about the other Mr. Graves,”  she wrings her tiny hands, her eyes flickering to the door.

“What’s happened? Is Newt okay?” Now that he’s more awake, he can hear the agitation in Newt’s tone. Something’s wrong. Percival grabs a robe and, on second thought, his wand as well.  

“An angry man at the door. He won’t leave. The other Mr. Graves is asking him more than once,” Wendi says hurriedly. “He is not wanting to wake you.” 

Percival is alarmed.

The house is dark. Credence is nowhere to be seen. He probably fled at the first sign of Newt’s irritation. He descends the staircase carefully not wanting to trip in the dark, Newt’s voice becoming clearer with every step he takes.

“Please, I’ve already asked you once to leave. I’d prefer you not make me ask you again.” Newt’s voice is knife-sharp. Percival’s never heard that tone directed at someone other than himself. It’s surprising to hear Newt be so cold with someone else.

“Mr. Scamander-”

“I'm not waking him up. My husband is absolutely exhausted and this entire situation has taken an unprecedented toll on him. He deserves to rest. MACUSA can function for a day without him.” Newt attempts to close the door but the Auror, who Percival only tangentially recognizes, places his hand in the way.

“I'm not disagreeing with you, Mr. Scamander but the president insists-”

“If the president wants to see my husband so badly, she can come here and ask me herself.  I'll tell her the same thing I'm telling you. Thank you and good  _ night _ .” Percival hears the door click shut over the sputtering of a furious Auror Jacobson. Newt heaves a put-upon sigh as he leans against it.

“You're lurking again, Percival,” he says without ever looking Percival’s way.

“I should’ve gone into the office. Sera will knock that door down if she feels she needs to. I’d rather it not come to that.” Percival reaches the bottom of the staircase and stows his wand.

Newt crosses his arms and finally meets Percival’s eye. His curls are a mess all over his head. He must have wrestled himself out of bed just to answer the door. “You’ve been having nightmares all day, Percival,” he says softly, “look me in my eye and tell me you’re well rested. Enough that you can really go to work and function.”

Percival...can’t do that. It’d feel too much like a lie.

“I can’t abandon my duty, Newt,” he tries instead, “I have an obligation-”

“Which you will be unable to honor if you’re a mess. Go back upstairs. You look like you’re going to fall over. I’ll be up in a moment." Newt shooes him back up the stairs. Percival’s glad for it, greets the now cooled sheets of his bed like an old friend. He’s dozing when he feels the bed dip next to him. Newt doesn’t keep his distance. He rests himself right up against Percival’s back, his nose brushing against the nape of Percival’s neck. Newt may be taller but Percival’s always thought of him as more delicate. He feels remarkably solid against Percival’s back. Grounding. 

“Stop thinking, Percival. Go to sleep,” he whispers. 

It makes sense not to argue.

Percival does go into the office the next day. He ignores the face Newt makes at him over his morning coffee, ruffles Credence’s hair reassuringly, and makes the trek. MACUSA is as he thought: a disaster. Major cases have ground to a halt as locating and detaining the most dangerous wizard anyone’s seen in a generation takes precedence. Their liaison with the Ministry is waiting for him in his office along with a stack of paperwork and a strongly worded memo from Seraphina. 

Percival projects calm when they tell him that there’s a strong suspicion that Grindelwald is in the States despite the fact that, internally, it sends him reeling. He pretends not to notice the stares, the suspicion.

The whispers that he may not be himself. 

That he's not to be trusted.

Maybe they shouldn't trust him. He lost to Grindelwald once already.

His pen slips from his grip and clatters against his desk. His hands - he squeezes them into fists but is no use. The shaking won’t stop. He shoves them into his lap and tries to find his breath. He doesn’t have room to lose it. 

It’s a struggle to get through the day but Percival does it. He even suffers through his required meeting with the president. 

Picquery’s not pleased with him but it seems she has more pressing matters on her mind.

“Do you think he’ll come for the obscurial? Because we can’t let that happen.” Sera sits across from him, a thoughtful look on her face.

“He knows we’re watching Credence.” Percival is deliberate in his use of Credence’s name. He has to remind them that Credence is a  _ person _ , a sentient being with thoughts and feelings. He gets the impression that Sera won't hesitate. She'll kill the boy if she thinks for even a moment that he could be used as a weapon against the city.

“Grindelwald isn’t exactly a rational thinker. He could seek the boy out regardless,” she sighs, her fingers fluttering over the delicate hem of her jacket, “I told you not to get attached, Percival.”

“It’s not about attachment,” Percival protests, “I just don’t think Credence deserves to be punished for his circumstance. None of this is his fault.”

“But it could be him that ends us all,” Seraphina counters. 

Percival shakes his head. “We won’t let it get that far. Grindelwald won’t get near him.”

Seraphina’s face is inscrutable but Percival can imagine her thoughts. Grindelwald has already gotten through him once. 

“Newt would know,” he says quietly, “Newt would know if I wasn’t me.”

Seraphina eyes him carefully before getting to her feet. “You better hope your pretty Omega can capture lighting in a bottle twice. If not, you may not like how this ends. You’re my friend, Percival, but I’m responsible for MACUSA. I will make this decision that is in the best interest of us all.” 

Percival takes the warning to heart.

He drags himself home and prays that he and Newt can hold their carefully stitched peace together for just a little while longer. 

The brittle smile Newt gives him when the front door swings open upon his return is not a good sign.

“Percival! Welcome home! You didn't tell me your mother was coming.” Newt’s voice may be honey sweet but Percival senses the danger underneath. Newt is not pleased. Not in the least bit.

So much for peace.

Percival doesn’t answer him, just shoulders inside to meet his mother and hopefully get her out of his house as soon as possible. 

Esme Graves is in the living room. She’s cleaning, or rather, following behind Wendi with a duster and chattering all the while. There are more streaks of gray than Percival remembers in her tightly pinned bun. He should feel  _ relieved  _ to see her, he thinks, but instead, he just wants her to go  _ away _ . 

“Mother, we would have prepared for your arrival had we known you were coming. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks. 

“I came as soon as I saw the news of course.  I have to make sure my son is well taken care of.” She stops bothering Wendi long enough to hug him tightly and kiss both his cheeks.  “This is awful business. Simply awful. I knew we shouldn't have trusted those British to properly handle one of their own. You would’ve never let this happen if they’d put you in charge of his sentence. I told Claudius the same thing.” Percival lets his mother ramble on. He spots a suitcase leaning up against the couch cringes at  how heavy it looks. How long is she planning on staying? 

“Mother, you really didn’t have to come. I’m alright. Newt's taking care of me.  I took a day to recover and I’m already back at work. I’m sure I’ll hardly have time to see you with how busy things have been,” he says genty.

“But you'll still need help around the house I'm sure. You'll be so stressed, Percy and you'll need all the help you can get,” she takes Percival's arm, “let's have Wendi make us a nice dinner, hm? Your father will be along as soon as he can tear himself away from work. I swear the Graves men are all the same.”

“Well, right now we don’t even have our guest room available. We have someone staying with us for the time being,” Percival tries. 

“We’ll just stay on the sleeper sofa in your office,” Esme says breezily.

“Ah...well, I’ll take your bags upstairs then.” Percival deflates. He doesn't have the energy for a lengthy fight. 

“I’ll join you,” Newt says. He flicks his wand and sends Esme’s luggage floating up the stairs. Percival follows him. It feels like walking towards a death sentence.

The moment Percival’s office door  _ snicks _ closed behind them, Newt’s voice turns deadly. 

“I won't spend one more minute down there, Percival. Not one more.”

“I was trying to get her to leave.” Percival hisses. He’d tried. 

“Is that what you were doing? Bringing her bags up to your office is getting her to _ leave _ ?”

Percival wants to shake him. None of this is important right now. Percival can’t deal with this. All he wants to do is curl up and go to  _ sleep _ . Preferably, with Newt with him. 

“I can not manage you  _ and _ my parents  _ and _ the crisis at MACUSA all at one time. Newt, I need you to give a little ground here-”

“Sitting across from your parents is giving more than ‘a little’ ground Percival. How can you ask me that? After everything that’s happened.” Newt scoffs.

“I’m asking because I don’t have the capacity to deal with this right now. It won’t be for long. You go back to work soon and hopefully we’ll have found Grindelwald before then.”

“Not until the new year,” Newt petulantly reminds him. 

“You and my parents may not have the most pleasant relationship-”

A snort.

“ _ But _ if I can’t get her or my father to leave, this will just have to be what it is for a while.”

“I can't do that if they keep trying to yank the rug out from under me! Knowing what your father was almost responsible for? You have to understand how that makes me feel.” Newt’s eyes are getting misty. He knows there’s nothing Percival can do but he isn’t ready to accept their situation. 

It’s fair, what Newt is asking for. Percival hates that he can’t give him what he wants. “Newt, please-”

“Percival,” Newt steps forward, right into Percival’s orbit. He telegraphs each movement, raising his hands slowly before resting them against Percival’s upper arms. He leans forward, touching their foreheads against one another. “I can't imagine what you're going through right now,  the stress you must be under. I can see it eating at you. I can see the toll. I just don’t think I can pretend with them. I don’t want to.”

“Newt,” Percival shakes his head, “this isn’t fair to you. I know that. And I’m sorry. We’ll figure something but just...just not right now. I’m exhausted.”

He feels Newt nod against him and breathes a sigh of relief. He’s thankful for Newt’s acquiescence. It won’t be taken for granted. 

\--

Dinner is served in the dining room. It’s a solemn affair with Percival at the head of the table, Newt to his right and Esme to his left.  Esme wrinkles her nose at the teapot Wendi places between them but doesn’t protest. She does speak, however, when Credence joins them. He sits at Newt’s side, meekly avoiding the woman’s gaze. 

“Who’s this, Percival?” Esme asks.

“Credence is staying with us for the foreseeable future,” Newt answers before Percival can get a word in.

“Oh! Percival, you didn’t tell me you’d taken a second! But he’s so pale.” She clucks her tongue as she looks Credence up and down before reaching across the table to tap his cheek, “but that bone structure is absolutely to  _ die  _ for. Lovely children, I should think.” 

Newt sets his silverware down, his plate clattering against the table with the force of his movement. “Credence is a  _ guest,  _ Mrs. Graves. He’s not a second. Percival doesn't have a second omega.” 

“Oh. Hm. We’re still waiting on children then? Still pretending that Newton is getting younger?” Her eyes rove over him finally, “there’s no reason Percival shouldn’t be allowed a second.”

“Mother, please. That’s enough,” Percival intervenes.

“I'm just worried about the future of our family, Percival,” Esme takes his hand, “I just want what’s best for you.”

“I know that, mother. And I know you mean well but Newt and I will have or not have children on our own timeline.”

Percival ignores his mother’s pursed lips in favor of staring at his plate. 

Dinner doesn’t get much better.

At the end of the night, Esme excuses herself to prepare for bed.

Credence whispers something in Newt’s ear, his delicate fingers skating across Newt’s forehead. 

“Everything okay?” Percival asks.

“It's fine. Just feeling a bit peaky. I think I’m going to go ahead to bed. Dinner was lovely, Wendi,” Newt pulls Credence along with him and suddenly Percival is alone. 

Newt is already curled up in his bed fast asleep by the time Percival makes his way upstairs. Percival takes his time readying himself for bed. When he finally lays down, he shuffles as close to Newt as he can and closes his eyes. 

Sleep doesn’t come easy.

After an hour of tossing and turning, Percival lights the small lamp next to his bed with a flick of his wrist. 

It’s as good a time to go over his case notes on Grindelwald as ever. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm realizing I should have titled this Percival and Newt wake up together and sometimes go to bed together. Sometimes stuff happens in between.

Percival doesn't so much wake up as simply get out of bed. Sleep had finally come in fits, restless and unhelpful. He drags himself downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. He tries to make himself enjoy the quiet of the empty kitchen knowing that once everyone else in the house wakes it’ll be chaos. Newt’s normally an early riser but he’s still sound asleep after tossing and turning all through the night before.

His mother must have gotten to his husband even more than he let on. There’s got to be a way to convince her to leave before his father gets in. Maybe he can offer a hotel stay? Insist he needs his office for the case?

When Percival returns to his bedroom to get dressed for work, Newt’s finally awake. Whatever illness Newt’s been afflicted with must have settled in during the night. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes, unfocused. He sends Percival a shaky smile. Goodness, even at his worst he still looks beautiful.

“How are you feeling?” Percival asks gently before sweeping a lock of Newt’s hair from his forehead.

“Not particularly well,” Newt admits before letting out a yawn, “I don’t foresee myself moving much from this bed today.” Percival agrees. He dresses quickly, saying his goodbyes before shuffling out of the bedroom door.

Credence is there waiting, his back against the wall. He looks nervous, his eyes flickering away from Percival’s gaze. He slips into the bedroom and closes the door leaving Percival on the outside.

Curious.

But Percival doesn’t have a moment to spare. He’ll ask when he gets back.

\--

There’s one hell of a ruckus waiting for him at MACUSA. Tina’s standing at his office door, and excited look on her face.

“We’ve got one of them, Sir. Found her down near the docks! Several others managed to apparate in time, but we were able to stop her. She’s in interrogation waiting for you now.”

“Do we have any idea what they were doing there?” Percival asks briskly already turning on his heel to head that way.

“No and she’s refused to speak to anyone but you so far,” she informs him breathlessly, “she’s asked for you specifically,” she tells him all in a rush while they’re walking down the stairs.

He’s not surprised. Grindelwald is still messing with him, the right bastard. He steels himself, stiffens his resolve and pushes the door open.

The woman is younger than he expected. She could even be a teenager. Her blonde locks have dulled, and she doesn’t look like she’s eaten much in a while.

“Director,” she greets him, her sallow eyes roving over his face, “the last time we met, you simply... _weren’t yourself._ ” She smiles brightly at him like she doesn’t have care in the world. It unsettles him.

“Why don’t we start simply, hm?” He takes the seat across from her, Tina electing to remain standing near the door.

“And what is _simple_ , Director Graves?” The woman turns to fully face him. She stares at him intently, her eyes cataloging every movement, every breath.

“Your name? Where you’re from? Maybe what you were doing at the docks? Why don’t you pick.”

The smile returns, “my name isn’t important. I am just one in a greater mission, a tiny part of a whole. It’s the work that matters.”

“The work?” Dread pools in Percival’s belly but he keeps his face impassive. “And what work exactly are you supposed to be doing?

“This is my mission. His message for you, Director. Deliver unto him the obscurial you _stole,_ and he may spare your Omega for his actions.”

Percival’s eyes narrow, his hackles raising at the implication. “It’s funny, that sounds almost like a threat.”

“He’s already defeated you once, Director. He will have what he wants whether you give it willingly or not.”

“Not if I kill him first.”

“And you think you’re so strong? Hm. The plans he has for you…” She leans back in her chair, “you can’t even imagine.”

Suddenly, her eyes roll back in her head, foam frothing at her lips. She shakes erratically before collapsing. Tina’s shouting down the hallway that something's wrong but Percival’s frozen as he watches her convulse.

Mediwitches appear around them checking the woman over. She’s dead they tell him.

All of this was intentional, he knows it. Grindelwald sent this woman just to die before him. How can he win against a man who has nothing to lose? Who cares for no one?

\--

“We can have an auror on your house at all times,” Seraphina says. They’re sitting in her office, a collection of the highest ranking aurors in MACUSA as well several liaisons with other agencies. “Auror Goldstein can start,” she gestures to Tina, “you can go there now.”

Tina nods, “let me just grab my jacket and I can head on over.”

“We should have aurors also protecting Director Graves’s most vulnerable family members. Send word to the Ministry to put a detail on his husband’s family as well.” Seraphina’s secretary flitters around her office pulling MACUSA stationary and a directory.

“My mother is already at my house and my father is supposed to be joining her shortly,” Percival croaks.

“Excellent. Bridget, have someone escort Percival’s father. See that he gets to his destination safely.”

“Yes, Madam President.”

Soon, everyone has their orders and it’s just them alone. Seraphina studies him closely.

“I know you don’t want to have this discussion,” she begins, “but you heard what I said about the obscurial. I meant it, Percival.”

“I can protect Credence,” Percival assures her.

“At what cost? How many people will Grindelwald kill to get ahold of him? How many people will he _be able_ to kill if he succeeds?”

“You’re talking about a _person,_ Seraphina. Credence is basically a child. You can’t just kill him because it’ll make things easier. There are other obscurials out there. Killing Credence won’t stop Grindelwald if that’s what he truly wants.”

“And if he comes for your husband? If he manages to kill him? Will you feel the same?” She challenges.

Percival waves her off. “Newt adores Credence. If he knew I was even entertaining the idea of his execution, he would have my head. The boy’s become a part of my family. I won’t hand him over to either of you.”

Seraphina shakes her head at him. “I knew this would happen. I knew it.” She heaves a sigh. “You’d better get him, Percival. Someone like Grindelwald? He won’t be stopped easily and I dread the damage he’ll do if he doesn’t get his way.”

Percival knows how she feels.

“I will.” It’s a vow. One he intends to keep.

\--

Newt spends most of his day sequestered in bed. Half because he wants to avoid his mother in law as much as physically possible and half because he feels positively _dreadful._

“I must have done it wrong. I’m so sorry,” Credence murmurs. He’s sitting at the end of Newt’s bed, his knees drawn up to his chin. He looks so much younger like this, Newt thinks, like a child.

“No, you did excellently, Credence. The potion was perfect.  It's not you. I’m afraid this is my mistake and my mistake alone,” Newt sighs, “I thought I knew better than my own biology.” He’s already had to change the sheets twice now, sweat soaking around him. It’s a sign of something awful to come.

“I can take care of you through it,” Credence assures him, “I nursed my sisters through theirs.” Credence carefully brushes Newt’s curls from his face before replacing the cold compress on his forehead. “You’re getting warmer.”

“I don’t doubt your ability. You’ve taken such good care of me thus far, but I don’t think I’d like you to see me in such a state. I’m afraid I won’t be particularly good company,” Newt grants him a small, sad smile. His mind is becoming fuzzier with each passing minute.

“Will Percival spend it with you?” Credence asks, his voice almost a whisper. Esme can’t hear them, Newt wants to tell him. He put a silencing charm on the door.

“It would be his right, but I would hope he would think better of it.” Newt does hope Percival will be reasonable. They've never gone through this before. When Newt was younger, he normally took a potion and slept for a week. When they married, he began dutifully drinking a potion every month that suppressed his… _time_.  Hopefully, he’ll be able to do that again.

He floats in and out of consciousness the rest of the day. Credence checks in on him often, sympathy clear on his sweet face.

It’s getting late when Credence knocks to tell him someone is at the front door. “She says she’s an Auror. Supposedly Percival sent her.”

“Is it an emergency?” Newt asks worriedly, “is Percival okay?”

“She just said that he’d sent her and that she needed to speak to you. Should I let her up here?” Credence takes in his disheveled appearance.

“No,” Newt says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, “I’ll be down in a moment.”

It’s a challenge getting down the stairs, but Newt manages. She’s standing in front of the door, her eyes scanning the room around her.

“What are you doing here? Is Percival alright?” Newt asks immediately.

“Oh, he’s fine. Just stuck in the office in the office right now and he wanted someone to keep you company.” Her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes. Something’s wrong. Newt twines his fingers around his wand just in case. Credence is somewhere hiding from company, he’s sure. He’ll be able to get to safety in time and, even though she’s horrid, Esme’s no slouch when it comes to spell work.

“It's the winter holidays, right?” The woman continues as she takes her coat off, “so you’re home for the time being.”

            “Well, yes but I have Credence. And Percival’s mother is here. We’re doing fine Miss-”

“Tina. We’ve met before.” She hangs he coat on their rack and glances again around the foyer.

“Oh yes. I remember, Tina,” Newt tries to keep his face impassive, but his energy is waning. What the hell does she want?

“I’m sure. You’ve got to be sharp to teach the burgeoning minds.” Tina wanders into the sitting room before plopping into one of their more comfortable leather chairs. “What have you been doing with no students to annoy you?”

“Catching up on the journals mainly. Writing some articles of my own. I don’t mean to be rude by why are you in my home?” He asks bluntly.

She smiles sadly at him, “there’s a situation at MACUSA and I’ve been sent to protect you until your husband is able to get home. I’ll be switching in and out with another auror until the situation is handled.”

“But Percival _is_ okay?”

“Yes, Mr. Graves. This is standard procedure. We’re lucky because your mother in law is already here. We’ll be protecting her as well.” Tina eyes him carefully. She must take in his weakened state because she says, “you should probably be in bed. I’m sure your husband will be home as soon as he can.”

It’s said carefully, _knowingly_.

Humiliation burns like bile on Newt’s tongue.

“Thank you, Tina. I think I will take my leave now. Credence?” He calls. Credence appears at his side instantly. He doesn’t even glance at Tina as he helps Newt back up the stairs.

Sending an auror to their home? Something must really be wrong.

—

“You're still not feeling well,” Percival says the moment he sees him. He places a hand against Newt’s forehead. “Have you checked for a fever.”

“No need, I know what this is,” Newt rubs his temples and sighs. “I feel sick. Headache. Queasiness. The rest will come soon.”

Percival’s head tilts slightly and Newt wishes he could see what’s going on in the inside of his head. The cogs must click together because realization shines in Percival’s eyes.

“I thought you took a potion to keep this from happening,” Percival says gently. It’s obvious he’s trying to breathe through his mouth. Newt appreciates the effort.

“I do. I’ve been teaching Credence how to brew it for his own use as well. However, our recent... _proximity_ may have caused it to fail. It’s been known to happen,”

“Proximity?”

“We've been sharing a bed of and on for weeks now, Percival. For the first time in our marriage. It was bound to happen,” Newt heaves another sigh and tries to ignore the tugging in is belly.

“Bound to happen? You're in _heat._ ”

“I hate that word. Merlin, I forgot how awful this is. It's been years. I think I'm going to run myself a bath and then put myself out for the week. Let it pass.” He lets his head loll against the pillows, his limbs feeling heavier than he’s ever felt them.

“If that’s what you want.” Percival reaches out then seems to think better of it, drawing his hand back.

“It is. I should probably get to my room while I’m still lucid.”

“No, you should stay put. No need for you to be even more uncomfortable. Besides, …it may ease things along if you're surrounded by some of my things.”

Percival’s right of course but it doesn’t make Newt feel any better about his bodies betrayal.

“Either way it’s going to be miserable. And what’s this about aurors running around the house? What’s happened, Percival?”

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Newt,” Percival says softly. He sits down on the edge of the bed and takes Newt’s hand. His hands are rough like always but it’s the subtle tremor that worries Newt.

“Like Credence being an obscurial was nothing for me to worry about? Percival please, I don’t need any more surprises. _This_ ,” Newt gestures to his sweaty form, “is all the surprise I can take.”

Percival purse his lips. He seems to mull it over before giving Newt’s hand a squeeze. It must be bad.

“Trust me when I say, I will do anything to protect you, Newton. Anything,” he says solemnly.

“And why would you need to protect me?”

Percival bows his head and closes his eyes. Newt waits him out, rubs his thumb against the back of Percival’s hand.

“Grindelwald,” The man finally says, “he’s threatened to kill you unless I deliver Credence to him.”

It’s not quite fear that overtakes Newt’s muddled mind. It’s close but he’s too shocked to feel it.

“I’m not going to let him hurt either of you. If you trust me in anything, trust me in this.” Percival says and he’s so fucking _earnest_. It makes it all so much worse.

“So, you can die to keep me safe? I thought we were trying to avoid that.” The tears are a surprise. Percival wipes them away with his thumb but says nothing. There are no promises this time.

“Don’t leave me,” Newt whispers.

“Newt…I don’t think it’s wise-” Percival protests, but Newt shushes him.

“Not for that. Just for now? Lay with me?” Newt pleads.

Percival doesn’t release his hand but does lay down next to him. He’s still in his work clothes but that doesn’t stop him from pulling Newt closer to him.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says finally.

Newt wants desperately to believe him. 

  



	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the updated tags!

The house smells like cinnamon. Credence sits on the stairs and watches Mrs. Graves instruct Wendi about what makes a proper Christmas cookie. They’re sweeter than Newt likes them, Credence thinks as he eats them later.

Mrs. Graves likes a lot of things differently, he notices.

She moves Newt’s journals from the sitting room table to the kitchen counter right next to where Newt often leaves things to be thrown away. Credence takes them from her, carefully bookmarks each page before placing them in Newt’s office even after she tries to put them in the trash. Wendi helps him.

There are aurors in the house as well. Mrs. Graves sweettalks them, offers them lemonade and apologizes for their _trouble._ Mr. Graves is just as strange, Credence finds. He arrives the day Newt takes his potion. He is a solid and imposing man, the source of many of Percival’s sternest features as well as his cold countenance. He stares Credence down when they meet.

“I see my son is letting more than one of you go to waste.” He shakes his head and leaves Credence standing awkwardly.

He liked the house better when it was just the three of them and Wendi.

Percival is rarely home.

There’s trouble at work, Credence gathers. There always seems to be trouble. The life of an auror, he guesses. When he is home, he spends his time sitting at Newt’s bedside, a stack of files in his lap.

“Oh, I thought you two were spending this time apart,” the first time he sees Percival at Newt’s side. He carefully doesn’t meet Percival’s eyes, not wanting to presume. Percival is an Alpha, no matter how nice he is. Newt had warned him after all that Percival has _rights_. It makes him shiver all over to think of his friend as vulnerable.

“We are. I just wanted to help Newt sleep easier. Look after him,” he glances fondly at Newt before turning his gaze back onto Credence, “is this why you’ve been sneaking in and out of my room? To make sure he’s okay?”

“I’m his assistant,” Credence says softly, “I even brewed his potion for him when he got too busy. I promised to look in on him.”

“That’s very nice of you, Credence. I’m glad you’re here when I can’t be,” Percival doesn’t _sound_ accusing, but Credence isn’t sure. 

 Credence and Wendi take turns bringing him coffee and asking him to go to sleep. He forgets to take care of himself sometimes.

“I think Newt’s getting enough sleep for the both of us,” the older man laughs when Credence mentions it. It sounds sad to Credence’s ears. He doesn’t call him on it though.

Newt’s been unconscious for three days. Credence misses him. They don’t talk much (Newt doesn’t seem to talk to much of anyone) but their silences are companionable. Newt’s even spoken to him about taking steps to enroll at the university, so he can formally be a teaching assistant and make _money_. Credence has never had his own money before. Newt smiles at him when he expresses his assignment and helps him look into applications.

Newt is softer than Percival, he thinks. Not weaker, oh no. Credence has watched Newt win his share of verbal battles with overreaching academics and self-important students. Even Alphas. Newt even manages to reign Percival in sometimes. So, no, not weaker at all.  But _softer_. He knows Newt doesn’t want kids (“not for right now, Credence. I don’t know what I’d do with a baby,”) but has no doubts that Newt will take wonderful care of a baby one day.

\--

Percival may be mostly kind but not all Alphas are the same. Credence tries not to listen, but Mrs. Graves can be very _loud_ sometimes. Especially when she’s upset. Mr. Graves, Percival’s father Credence learns, is much like his son in even more than appearance. Quiet and intense with little patience for nonsense.

If only they could agree on what constitutes _nonsense_.

The house explodes on the fifth day of Newt’s self-imposed sleep sending Credence cowering into one of the corners of the kitchen while Percival argues with his parents in the sitting room.

“You have no idea what you’re asking me to do,” he hisses, “the betrayal! Newt would never forgive me!”

“Don’t be dramatic Percival,” Mr. Graves says, his voice hard, “you’re not a child.”

“You’re right. I am not a child, and this is my home! As that stands, this is my decision and my answer is _no_!”

“Percival _please,_ ” Mrs. Graves tries to intervene, “you must understand our concern. We understand that Newt is-”  
            “Obstinate,” Mr. Graves bites out.  
            “ _Difficult_. We say difficult, darling,” Mrs. Graves corrects her husband sharply, “but the time for this foolishness has come to an end, don’t you think. You’re getting older. So is Newt-”

“I’m not having this conversation with you again, mother,” Percival must be moving because his voice sounds farther away.

“If you won’t speak, you _will_ listen,” Mr. Graves says sharply, and he says something, Credence can’t hear but it must be bad because-

Percival’s voice goes deadly quiet, “be careful about threatening me in my own house, father.”

“And what will you do, hm? Stand there and take it like you do from your husband?”

There’s a crash in the kitchen. Credence fights back a yelp as the window over the sink shatters. Wendi appears before him, holding up her little hand. She gestures for him to be quiet and stay put. Credence trusts her judgement.

“Get out.” Percival says, his voice deadly quiet, “get out of my house. Wendi will send you your things but for now,” Credence hears Percival suck in a breath, “get the hell out of my house.”

“Percival!”

“This isn’t over, Percival-”

“I assure you it is. I’ll have an auror accompany you.”

“You’re being hysterical-”

“Me?! I’m the one being hysterical while you sit there and honestly suggest I _rape_ my husband-”

Credence can’t contain himself this time. The squeak he lets out is near inaudible but it’s enough for the sitting room to go silent.

“Credence?” Percival says after a beat, his voice tired.

Credence doesn’t want to move, begs God to love him enough to strike him down but when he opens his eyes, he’s still alive. 

“Credence, please come out,” Percival says again.

Wendi takes his hand and carefully guides him away from the corner. He can see Percival now, can see clear through to the sitting room.

“I-I’m sorry, I was getting a compress for Newt,” he says, careful to keep his distance.

The two older Graves’s watch him with suspicion.

“I understand. Why don’t you go on ahead and go upstairs? I’ll handle this,” Percival’s eyes are tired but kind and Credence wants dearly to do as he says but finds his body just won’t cooperate.

“Wendi, if you would,” Percival says when it becomes clear that Credence’s legs won’t be moving any time soon.

One moment he’s clinging to Wendi’s hand in the kitchen and the next, he’s in his own room, Wendi still next to him. She pats him on the knee and leaves him there, disappearing into thin air.

The silence is deafening.

\--

“Now look what you’ve done,” Esme shakes her head at him.

“What _I’ve_ done? Mother, you can’t be serious,” Percival groans.

“I am serious! You would disrespect your own parents? And in front of company no less! Your father and I did not raise you this way!” The chastisement rolls of his back. He’s too angry.

“Mother, please!” Percival barks.

She doesn’t back down though. It only seems to ramp her up more.

“What your father and I are asking is not unreasonable!”

“I will _not_ take advantage of Newt while he’s unconscious! That’s not up for debate. It’s not a conversation. It’s not happening. The fact that you would even suggest it means that you don’t know me at all!”

Percival drags a hand through his hair, tries to focus on his breathing but he’s so fucking angry. Credence had looked so terrified. And Newt.

Newt would be positively _volcanic_.

“Percival, your father and I love you very much-”

“Do you because this doesn’t feel like love-”

“ _But!_ We have a duty to this family. You have a duty to this family. A legacy to secure. Your father and I hate to put limits on you but,” his mother shakes her head, and frown tugging at her lips, “we will if we have to.” She says it with such finality, like she’s not upending his entire world.

“You would take my name from me, my birthright, over _this._ ” Percival shakes his head. Anger doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. Fury. Righteous and hot, Percival just wants to scream.

“You’ve done well Percival. You’ve honored this family. But if you refuse to carry on our family’s line, then all of that good will have been for nothing,” his mother says it so gently, like she’s not asking him to do something absolutely horrible.

“If our family’s legacy relies on me dishonoring everything I stand for, then I don’t want it. If that’s all, please _get out of my house_.”

His mother just shakes her head like _he’s_ the one who’s crazy.

“You’re making a mistake, Percival. I don’t want to hurt you, but this is happening. You have control over how painful this needs to be. Hopefully, you won’t be as foolish as you were when you refused Ms. Talbot,” his father warns.

“How many times do I have to tell you to get out of my house before you leave?” Percival snaps.

Before he even finishes, his parent’s luggage appears before them neatly wrapped and folded. Wendi’s always been good at her job and she’s become rather fond of Newt, Percival thinks.

Claudius just shakes his head, a disappointed look on his face. Percival hates himself for putting it there but this…this is something he can’t compromise on.

“I hate that it has to be this way. I hate that you’re making us do this,” Esme touches his cheek one last time before taking her husband’s hand. They gather their things and take their leave, the front door shutting quietly behind them. Percival hears the sudden displacement of air that accompanies apparition and knows they’re gone.

“Credence?” Percival calls eventually. The house is unnervingly quiet now that his parents are gone. The boy doesn’t answer. He’s probably hiding up in his room, terrified of what might happen next. Percival climbs the stairs, ready to talk the boy out of running away.

He shakes his head. That’s a ridiculous thought.

Credence would never leave Newt.

Credence refuses to come out of his room, even when he knocks twice. He must truly be afraid. Percival gives up after the third try, exhaustion setting in. He’ll talk to Credence tomorrow.

The next day, he eats breakfast alone. His morning coffee taste a bit off and he wonders if Wendi is punishing him for his behavior in her own subtle way. Even when his parents are being insufferable, Wendi doesn’t abide rudeness.

Percival goes to work like normal. There are no new leads on Grindelwald. Percival wracks his brain, tries to anticipate the dark wizard’s movements but every path he and his aurors turn down leads to more disappointment.

It’s when he returns home that the problem arises. The moment he steps onto, or attempts to step onto, the property he’s shoved backwards like two invisible hands hitting directly in the sternum. He lands on his ass right in front of his house while Tina walks up onto the porch.

“Director!” She cries as she races back down the steps to meet him. “Are you alright? What happened?”

“I don’t know.” Percival gets to his feet and tries again to step on the first step leading to his porch. Again, he’s shoved backwards and even though he manages to keep his footing this time, it’s even more disorienting.

Tina draws her wand. “It must be Grindelwald! He could be in the house, Sir-”

“No,” Percival cuts her off. It’s not Grindelwald. He knows exactly what this is.

He’s going to kill his parents.

\--

“I don’t understand. What do you mean Percival can’t enter the house?” Newt asks when he wakes. He’s slept of a full seven days, they tell him. Percival’s been gone for almost a full day and won’t be back any time soon if what Tina says is true.

“His parents disowned him. He’s no longer a Graves and thus the blood wards on the house no longer recognize him. They’ve promised to restore everything once…well…” Tina looks at him expectantly.

“Once…,” Newt repeats. He doesn’t understand. Percival’s parents adore him. What could make them be so cruel?

“Once you are with child?” She says awkwardly. She’s standing at his bedside, her arms firmly behind her back.

“And how the hell do they expect for that to even happen if neither of us can enter the house. Once I leave, I’m no longer a Graves either! Are we supposed to conceive a child on the sidewalk in front of the gate?! Is that what they want?” Newt gets to his feet and pauses, his balance shifting dangerously.

“Newt?” Credence asks softly, “do you need help?”

What he needs is a moment to hear himself think. And a bath. Badly. And then he needs to find a way to contact Percival without leaving the property. Maybe he can call in some of the other professors from the university, find a way to wrench control of the wards away from Esme and Claudius.

It’s ridiculous, he knows. It won’t work. Esme and Claudius have backed them into a corner. Percival must know it too.

“Newt,” Tina says, “you shouldn’t have to do anything you don’t want to but…Percival is already under so much stress-”

“And bringing a child into the world while Grindelwald is trying to kill me will lessen his stress?” Newt cuts her off with an incredulous laugh. “No, this is Claudius and Esme doing what they always do: thinking of themselves. It's just normally I’m the only one they’re stepping on.”

“Wendi is drawing the other Mr. Graves a bath,” Wendi appears in the doorway. She cast a suspicious glance at Tina before disappearing.

“I suppose it’s back to Scamander technically,” Newt says into the air. It’s not like he’s ever really gone by Graves anyway. He signs all his academic works _Scamander_ , has taken great care to maintain some sense of his own identity even after marrying into the prestigious family. “Where is Percival sleeping? Not in his office, I hope,” he asks Tina.

“He foresees this being a long-term arrangement so he’s in a hotel. But if you leave-” Tina starts as Newt brushes past her.

“If I don’t he’ll never get back into his own house. Credence, you’ll look after things while, I’m gone, won’t you?” He asks. The boy nods.

“Of course. Should I not leave as well?”

“Better safe than sorry. Tina will make sure you have everything you need.” Newt says as he walks towards the bathroom with the auror hot on his heels.

“Tina will not! I’m supposed to be protecting _you_ , Mr. Scamander.”

“I’ll be with Percival. I’ll be perfectly safe. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to bathe before I go and meet my husband.” He closes the door in her face.

Oh good. Wendi’s laid out his good clothes.

\--

“Newton,” Esme says when she opens the door. She looks surprised to see him, “are you throwing rocks at my door?”

“Esme,” Newt says, “I can’t encroach upon your property so I can’t reach the door to knock. You have to invite me.” He looks down at the patch of grass separating him from the porch.

“Is there a reason you’ve come to my house?” She crosses her arms and makes no move to allow him into the house.

“What do you think? I’ve come to discuss terms.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was fun. Also, for some reason, this chapter came to me a lot easier than normal. I don't foresee a back to back posting like this happening again soon.


	13. Chapter 13

“Newton! And Percival, darling you look so handsome! Give me a hug.” Newt watched as his new mother-in-law engulfed her son in a tight hug. When she finally released Percival, her gaze turned to Newt. He hadn’t seen her since the wedding. 

She tapped his cheek with two fingers and made a disappointed ‘tsk’ing noise. “You’re so thin, Newton. We’re going to have to fix that I think. It’ll really help to have some weight on you already once you’re pregnant.” 

She said it like it was a foregone conclusion and, well, Newt supposed it was. He knew the price of a good match.  

“Well, come on in. I wonder if we celebrate Christmas differently than you all do over there. It’s always at our home. I can’t wait for you and Percival to start bringing your own children to family holidays,” she said as she led them to the dining room. Newt just smiled awkwardly and nodded. He and Percival hadn’t even shared a bed yet let alone discussed children.

He knew the Graves’s were wealthy when he married Percival but here, on their own turf, their wealth was on full display. Newt took his seat next to Percival and looked around the room. Every feature dripped in silver and jewels. The tablecloth and napkins were thick with what Newt had no doubt was hand done embroidery. Newt’s parents had wealth, of course, but were often unwilling to flaunt it. This ostentatious nature of it all was foreign to him. 

“How do you like living in America, Newton?” Claudius asked him as the first course arrived.

“It’s lovely,” Newt replied, a shaky smile on his face, “different from home but not in a bad way. Percival got me a job at the university.”

Claudius’s eyes narrowed, the lines around his mouth growing tighter with every passing breath. “How do you expect to keep that position once you two have children? Will you have a nanny?” He asked.

Newt brushed a stray curl behind his ear, kept his eyes on his plate, and prayed Percival would step in and say something to alleviate the tension.

“We’ll figure it out when it happens, father. Newt and I are still getting to know each other. Things are still stabilizing,” Percival said conversationally, “besides, Newt needs something to do all day while I’m at work and the professors say he’s a good assistant.” 

Newt nodded along as Percival spoke, his .

“Well, don’t let that distract you from your future, Newton. This family takes its line very seriously,” Claudius’s voice left no room for argument. Newt had no doubt that while he wasn’t pregnant yet, he would be soon.

“Of course,” Newt’s voice was almost a whisper. The rest of the night went by much the same. Newt kept his eyes on his food and decided that no, he did not like this Graves family tradition at all. 

\--

Newt’s been to Claudius and Esme’s home several more times over the years and yet, every time, they manage to make him feel more uncomfortable than the last. They sit across from him, Newt relegated to a tight settee in their awful little sitting room. He’s always hated the ugly, green thing but Percival insisted it was an heirloom. Their house elf, Remy, appears to Newt and asks if he’d like anything to eat.

Newt declines, never taking his eyes off of Esme’s smug face. He’s sat quietly across from her and her husband so many times. To be honest, even now - after everything they’ve put him through -  he’s still slightly afraid of them.

“So,  _ terms _ , Newton?” Esme’s head tilts, her eyes narrowing dangerously. She looks so much like her son in these moments. So much so that Newt sometimes forgets she’s an omega as well. “I would think Claudius and I have been very clear on the terms of this agreement. You and Percival comply with this very  _ simple _ request and everything goes back to normal,” she shrugs, settling against her husband.

“Normal as in you stop tormenting your own child because you’re desperate to be a grandmother? Or normal as in you keep terrorizing us until we do what you say for the rest of our lives?” Newt challenges. He’s proud his voice doesn’t quiver. The anger keeps him going. Keeps the fear at bay. He’s cowered from Esme and Claudius as long as he’s known them but  _ something  _ has to give. If he doesn’t do something now, he and Percival will always be at their mercy. 

Esme laughs. It’s a tinkling sound that shouldn’t come off as menacing as she makes it. 

“Newton, you’ll understand if you ever decide to do your duty and have a child. You’ll want what’s best for them no matter what. You’ll do what it takes. No matter how they misbehave. Sometimes that requires a tougher form of love. Percival’s resolved to keep you by his side for whatever reason and Claudius and I have decided that we are are willing to accept that.” 

Claudius doesn’t look so sure, Newt thinks. 

“It wasn’t easy,” her smile broadens, “but sacrifices have to be made. Now it’s your turn.”

Newt shakes his head. “And what happens when you want baby number two? Or when you want to take my child without my permission? Will you throw us all out into the cold then?”

“Newton, there are certain-”

“My name is Newt. You know that. I’ve told you before. You won’t even  _ compromise _ on that. I can’t trust you, Esme.”

“When I chose you to marry my son, I was made assurances by your parents that you would be worthy of our family’s name. That you would do your  _ duty _ . You’ve failed in every aspect. It should be no surprise that we wish to revoke our family name until we receive what was promised. That’s business, Newton.” She says his name deliberately, squarely meeting his gaze.

Newt fights the urge to look away. He hates eye contact but this is important. 

“Face it, dear. You don’t really have any cards to play here.” 

Wrong. He has one. Percival would never actually go for it so, it’s one hell of a bluff but really-

Being married to Percival has given Newt one hell of a poker face.

“I’ll take the baby back to England,” he says softly. Lets the words tumble off of his tongue and land like bricks. 

It’s as if everything stands still, none of them drawing breath. Esme blinks rapidly, her mouth opening and closing giving her a strange almost fishlike appearance. 

“Absolutely not,” she finally says. The sweetness is gone from her voice. The game is over, Newt thinks. Now, she’s taking him seriously. 

“It’ll be my child, legally and I’m an English citizen. Percival could have a Ministry job with a flick of the wrist and he hates you enough right now that he just might agree.” Claudius starts at that but Esme puts a hand on his chest.

“Don’t test me, Newton. You may not like the results,” she warns but something’s changed. Shifted. There’s uncertainty in her eyes. 

“I’m just doing what you want, Esme. Fine. You think Percival and I are unworthy of your name? You want to remove it from us permanently? That can be arranged,” Newt says as he crosses his legs. He’s the one with the power now. “Percival’s still the Director of Magical Law Enforcement. You didn’t give that to him so you can’t take it away. He did it on his own and he makes more than enough money to survive without your influence. And once he captures or kills Grindelwald, he’ll be even more famous.” Newt shrugs. “You’re overplaying. Counting on Percival’s loyalty to his name but that’s all it is, a name.

“Here my name may not mean much but  _ across the sea _ , my child will be Theseus Scamander's dearest niece or nephew. People say my brother could be Minister one day. My child will want for nothing even without your influence, Esme. Keep your name. The child will still be a Scamander if not a Graves. You'll still have no legacy. Just a son who despises you and a grandchild who'll never even know you exist.” Percival would never let that happen, Newt thinks but just the idea should be enough. 

“You think it’s all well to threaten in us, Newton?” Claudius stands to his full height and for once, for once Newt is thankful he’s so tall. He stands as well and is pleased to find he’s just an inch or two taller than his father-in-law.

“I wouldn’t have to make threats,” he says, “if you two weren’t so controlling.” 

They’re left staring at one another, the air in the room going thick. 

Esme is the first to break the silence. “Fine, Newton. You came to talk terms so what are they?”

Newt doesn’t hesitate. “Transfer the wards to Percival.  _ Permanently _ .”

“Now see here-”

”You don’t get to come and go, you have to ring Percival and I first-”

“How dare you-”

“And! When we do have a child, you will keep your disdain for me private. Badmouth me to my child and I will put in a request for a portkey _myself_.” Newt lifts his chin defiantly and refuses to be cowed.

Esme shakes her head, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips.

“You do realize you only hold the cards for now, Newton? Your only weapon is your fertility which frankly, hasn’t been proven. If you fail to produce a child,” Esme’s eyes rove over his face, “I don’t care how  _ fond _ of you my son is. I will make you disappear.” 

Newt holds her gaze even as his insides turn to ice. She’s telling the truth and he knows-

  
  
  
  


If he fails? His end will be a painful one.

\--

 

“I’m sorry you did  _ what _ ?”

Percival had been surprised to see Newt at his hotel room door but quickly let him inside. He’d hoped Tina would keep Newt in the house for protection after he awoke but he should have known better. Newt wouldn’t be cooped up for long. He looks bright, _renewed_. The hea- _ time  _ had done him well. 

“Your hearing is near perfect Percival. Living in a hotel for two days didn't change that.” Newt says as he looks around. The hotel room is more of a mini apartment than a room, Percival thinks. 

“I heard you say you threatened my  _ parents, _ ” he says incredulously. Newt waves him off before removing his gloves and coat. He hangs them next to the door and takes a seat on the couch. He undoes the laces of his shoes and removes them before lazing against the couch cushions. Percival's heartbeat picks up just at the sight of him.

“That had to have been a disaster,” he says. He put his hands in his pockets to keep them from wandering, “they must have been absolutely livid.”

“More livid than when they had you thrown from your own house?” Newt shoots him a knowing look, “have you eaten?”

Percival refuses to take the bait, “not yet and please, don’t deflect. Newt, why did you go to my parents?”

Newt shrugs and shifts, setting his feet up on the small couch as well. His eyes skate over Percival’s work notes on the coffee table, “because I’m sure, as lovely as this room is, you’d like to be back in your own home. I would as well. Why haven’t you eaten?”

Percival feels mystified about the possibility of being back in his own home so soon. He’d been prepared to dig his heels in but it would seem Newt’s outmaneuvered even him. 

 

He should be used to that by now.

 

“And they just backed down?” He asks, skirting around the question of food, “there’s no way. I don’t know whether to take this as a victory or prepare myself for the next assault.”

“Perhaps do both? The wards should be undone by the morning. Then, they’ll be transferred to you permanently. We’ll be able to go home.”

Percival still doesn’t quite believe it. “There’s no way my mother gave that to you so easily. What did you threaten her with?”

Newt brushes a curl behind his ear and refuses to meet his eye. It’s a nervous thing he does, Percival thinks. Something he’s noticed but never quite cataloged. 

“I threatened to take the baby to England. The baby we’ll have eventually.” It’s quiet but the simple statement is still enough to send Percival’s mind reeling. Here Newt is. Fresh from a heat still smelling of cinnamon and cloves and talking about children.

“I’m not moving to England,” he says instead.

“I know. But they didn’t and the threat was enough.”

It must have been. 

“Thank you. I know how hard it must have been for you to go to them,” Percival reaches down and lifts Newt’s feet so he can sit down. “You should have called me. I would’ve gone with you. I know how my parents can be. Especially when it comes to you. What they wanted me to do…”

Newt turns so his feet are in Percival's lap, “I never did ask. What did they want from you? Why did they ban you from your ancestral home? They took your  _ name _ , Percival. That’s serious.”

“They wanted me,” Percival closes his eyes, tries to take a grounding breath. He squeezes Newt’s ankle, “they thought I should take my right while you couldn’t protest. You were in a he-your  _ time _ and asleep. They thought it would be the easiest way to get you pregnant.” Percival says it quietly. His voice laced with shame. “I disagreed. Credence heard everything and he-he wouldn't even look at me.” 

Newt stays quiet but Percival feels his anger. 

“Amazing. I’ll admit, your parents always manage to leave me surprised,” he says plainly. 

“It was horrific. And ugly. I made them leave like I should’ve done when my mother first arrived.”

There’s no blame in Newt’s expression.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

Percival doesn’t know how to answer that. He’s exhausted, yes, and sleeping in an unfamiliar bed hasn’t helped. Work is still killing him and he’s missed Newt.

“I’m doing better now. Now that we get to go home and you’re awake.”

Newt’s answering smile is  _ oh so soft _ . 

“You’ll feel even better after you have some food. We’ll call for room service. Merlin knows how long it’s been since you’ve let yourself eat.”

Percival lets Newt prod him into ordering room service. Even accepts with minimum fuss the added helping Newt hands him when his plate is clear.  

The sun’s low outside their window and both of their plates are clear when Newt speaks again. 

“Percival, I have a question?” He says softly, “or maybe it’s more of a request?” Percival keeps completely still, his eyes tracking Newt’s every movement. There’s not much he wouldn’t give Newt. Especially in moments like these. Newt slowly lifts himself up and tips forward into Percival's orbit. He places one hand on Percival’s shoulder, the other resting on the arm of the couch. Percival isn’t sure what’s happening until Newt kisses him. It’s soft, barely a brushing of lips. Percival wouldn't even call it a kiss if he wasn’t so desperate for  _ something _ . Newt slides back, his cheeks flushed and rosy His freckles have practically disappeared.  

“That was a mistake. Percival-”

Percival kisses him quiet, holds Newt close to him and relishes in it. After a moment, Newt finally sighs against him. They spend the entire night that way. Curled around one another. Trading soft kisses and blushing smiles. 

  
  


Percival feels like he’s floating.

  
  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long. My thesis is slowly killing me.
> 
> See end note for chapter warnings.  
> Also, this is the chapter where this story begins to earn its E rating. Be warned.

Newt took one last look at himself in the mirror and burst into tears. 

“I can’t do this,” he cried. For some reason, the air just couldn't find its way into his lungs. He felt like he was going to die, his vision swimming. Suddenly, there was hand on his back rubbing soothing circles. He turned his head and was surprised to see his brother. Theseus kept his hand firm and whispered soft nonsense until Newt’s breathing was semi-normal.

“That’s right. Calm down, Newt. Keep taking deep breaths, okay?” His brother said. Newt closed his eyes and tried hard to listen, tried to keep breathing but his mind was racing. 

He felt Theseus’s hand move to his shoulder.

“Look, little brother, I know this isn’t ideal for you but it’s the hand we’ve been dealt. Remember, you're doing this for our family. For our future,” Theseus took a moment to straighten his little brother’s tie, “and you look  _ wonderful _ .”

A single tear slipped down Newt's cheek. Theseus was the only one who’d ever tried to comfort him. Newt’s parents had no patience for their son’s cold feet. It was his fault their family had fallen so far so it was his duty to fix it.

“Percival is a very kind, man. I've met him before. So have you. You  _ know _ this. The two of you will get along just fine, I think. And who knows what the future entails? Once you’re married with a couple of children running around? You could be happy, Newt.” Theseus wiped the tears from his cheek with his thumb. “Everyone's out there waiting on us. It'll feel better once it's all over.”

Newt tried to accept the soothing words but his stomach was still in knots. Theseus patted his shoulder one last time before extending his elbow for Newt to take. 

“Let’s take it nice and slow, little brother. I’ll be right next to you.”

Newt took a deep breath and placed his hand on his brother’s elbow. 

 

There was no turning back.

\--

Newt wakes tucked tight against his husband, his back to Percival’s front. Percival feels firm behind him. Solid. Newt lets his eyes slip shut and focuses on Percival’s breathing. Last night...last night was  _ something _ .

Newt covers his face with his hands. He feels almost embarrassed about his behavior. He’s never been so forward. Wait. No.  _ Embarrassed _ isn't the right word. More like  _ giddy _ . That’s strange right? Percival’s his  _ husband _ . It’s weirder that they haven’t kissed, right? He touches his fingers to his lips and smiles feeling silly about the whole thing. Percival's still sound asleep behind next to him, snoring softly. 

The hotel bed is soft and plush. Maybe Newt shouldn’t have put in so much work to get them back into their home. Maybe they should just stay here. Ignore Esme and Claudius. Grindelwald and MACUSA. 

Maybe they should just make it a habit to stay in more hotels. 

There’s a clock on the wall across from their bed. Percival’s going to be late if Newt doesn’t get him up. Newt slowly turns over. 

“Percival?” He says gently, his voice almost a whisper. He nudges him gently. He smiles at the confused scrunch of Pervivals nose as the man fights to stay asleep. “You’re going to be late if you don’t get up. The president won’t be happy with you,” Newt says a bit louder.  

“She’s never actually happy with me,” Percival replies groggily, his eyes still closed, “so what’s the point of being on time?”

“You have a reputation, I think. You’d hate to lose it now,” Newt reminds him, “I’ll send for breakfast. Newt rolls himself out of bed and trods into the living area. He spends some time chatting with the house elf that takes their order. Percival eventually ventures out of the bedroom and gratefully accepts the cup of coffee Newt presses into his hand. He’s dressed for work thankfully but it’s clear he’s still exhausted. They stay in the small living area, their knees brushing as they share the small couch. Percival doesn’t eat much to Newt’s concern. 

Before Newt can say anything, there’s a knock at their door. 

“That’ll be Tina,” Percival says as he heaves himself up, “I should really get going.”

“Right. I’ll go ahead and check us out. Hopefully, the next time I see you, it’ll be at home.”

Percival grants him a small smile. 

“Percival, go to work. I’ll take care of things here,” Newt says as he reaches forward to straighten Percival’s tie. He takes his time, his hands lingering on the silk.  It’s then that Newt notices how close they are. They’re mere inches apart, so close that he can almost taste Percival's natural scent. Can hear every breath. He closes his eyes when he feels Percival’s thumb hook under his jaw. His hands tighten, squeezing Percival’s tie. He feels Percival press a chaste kiss against his lips, a fleeting brush.

Newt sighs against him, moving his lips accordingly until they slot with Percival’s. He startles when he feels Percival’s hand settle at his waist. It sends a warm shudder wracking through his body, a burn that slides against the length of his spine and spins with arousal. Percival doesn’t let up. Instead, he presses Newt backward into the doorframe. 

Newt makes a noise of surprise but it’s lost against Percival’s lips. The touch of Percival’s tongue against his bottom lip sends a strike of heat throughout his body as he reaches up to tangle his fingers in Percival’s usually neat hair. 

“Ahem.”

They break apart, equally shocked, to see Tina’s standing in the door. Her cheeks are bright red when she stows her wand.

“Sorry, for barging in. You didn’t answer the door,” she says. 

Percival clears his throat and nods, his cheeks also a bright red. He takes a step away from Newt. “Of course. Excuse me, Goldstein. I believe I’m running a bit late at this point,” he says. Newt keeps his eyes on the floor and tries to stop the embarrassment from showing on his face. 

“I should go.” Percival presses one last kiss to his lips. It’s a chaste thing, the heat from before notably softened. “I’ll see you when I get home.” 

Newt nods and Percival’s gone leaving him alone with auror Goldstein. Everything about her demeanor from her searching eyes to the nervous tap of her finger against her thigh says she wants to ask Newt what happened. He’s glad she has the ability to restrain herself.

Newt doesn’t even look at her as he scurries back to the bedroom.

 

\--

 

Credence hugs Newt when he sees him. They linger in the entryway of the Graves house for a few moments before Credence reaches forward to help he and Tina with Newt and Percival’s bags. 

“It’s so good to see you,” he says as he ushers them into the sitting room, “I was worried when you didn’t come back the first day.”Newt drops his bag and reaches up to ruffle Credence’s hair. 

“I believe I told you I had it handled,” Newt reminds him, “Percival will be back once he’s done with work for the day. I hope you’ve been reviewing the journals. We’ll be back at work next week.” 

“I have. You got a letter from the university about an injured Nundu arriving when you return,” Credence gives him the biggest smile Newt’s ever seen on the boy. It warms him.

“Well, that’s exciting. We’ll have something to jump right into when we get back,” Newt said suddenly excited. A Nundu? That would be an adventure in itself.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you here all alone with the Aurors though, I’m sure that wasn’t fun,” Newt says, pointedly ignoring the look of protest decorating Tina’s face. Credence takes his arm and guides him towards the couch. 

“I wasn’t all alone though,” Credence says and his smile is bigger this time.

“What’s this about Aurors? You know you married one of us, little brother.” Newt’s head snaps up at the sound of that voice.  “Well? What are you waiting for? Come in for a hug?”

Theseus may look different, Newt thinks, but his hugs are just as Newt remembers. Warm and stabilizing.  He’s visibly older than when Newt last saw him, more lines around eyes and mouth. 

He doesn't come to visit often. It always causes a stir in social circles when he does. Newt has missed him.

“And here I thought you’d be expecting by the time I got here,” Theseus nudges him jovially. He pokes playfully at Newt’s belly and laughs as Newt swats his hands away.

“Why would you think that? I would have told you if I was,” Newt huffs. 

“Well, Esme fire called mother of course. Told her how you’re so excited to have a baby. Mother’s planning to send you some things,” he  jovially pats Newt’s shoulder, “I knew you’d come around eventually”

Fucking hell, Esme. Newt made his gambit. He should have expected a counter strike but he didn’t know it’d come so quickly. 

It’s a pointed one.

“Leta said she’d give you some things,” Theseus continues completely oblivious to Newt’s dismay. He smiles when Wendi appears and offers her a little wave. Newt’s stomach drops at the mention of Leta.

“Theseus-”

“No no. It’s okay. We’ve decided we're not going to try anymore. After the last one...well...it nearly broke her,” Theseus smiles again but it’s sad this time and Newt feels horrible. He’d envied Leta at one time. Her and Theseus. They’d actually chosen each other and mere months after they’d married, she was already pregnant. A shining example of what Newt’s marriage was _ supposed  _ to be like. 

And then they’d lost the baby.

And the next one.

And the one after that.

At some point, Newt’s sympathy cards had started to ring hollow. 

“She’s excited for you though. Mother is too,” Theseus collapses onto the couch and pats the space next to him. “Now, tell me why exactly you’ve been staying in a hotel? Romantic getaway?”

“Not quite, I’m afraid. We were having some issues with the wards,” Newt replies evenly as he takes the seat. 

Wendi appears with the tea tray.

“Well, thank you, miss,” Theseus says, ever the charmer. He makes himself a cup. “The wards? What issues would Percival have with the wads of his own house?” Theseus’s expression turns dark, “was it related to Grindelwald?”

“No,” Newt assures him, “just some trouble with Esme and Claudius. A misunderstanding.”

“Misunderstanding? Newt-”

“It’s fine now, Theseus. We fixed it,” Newt says as he pats Theseus’s hand. “And it’s not that I’m not happy to see you Theseus but I’m curious why you’re here?”

Theseus waves him off, “Percival wrote to me when Grindelwald threatened you. I had to come. He’s not a wizard to be  trifled with.”

Newt shakes his head. Of course. It may have been some time but Theseus hasn’t changed at all. “I’ll be fine, Theseus. I have Aurors watching all the time now, Newt gestures to Tina’s position near the window, “Percival’s looking after me. I trust him.”

Theseus smiles at that.

“Good. I’m glad.”

They spend the next few hours chatting. Theseus is thinking of getting a crup. Something to keep Leta company while he’s away. The eat lunch and eventually dinner. Newt barely notices the sky turning dark or Tina switching out with a different auror. 

“Will you stay on, Credence? To help care for the babe?” Theseus asks over his steak.

“As long as Percival and Newt want me around, I’ll be here,” Credence replies easily. He seems to like Theseus well enough. Newt’s pleased.

“Well, that will be a very long time,” Newt assures him.

Newt’s nearly falling asleep when he notices how late it’s gotten. 

Percival’s not home yet. 

Newt tries not to be concerned. He has trouble focusing on the rest of the conversation.

“I think I’m actually tired, you all. I think I’m going to head upstairs and get ready for bed.” Newt says his goodnights and heads upstairs. Wendi’s already returned his clothes to their proper places. His robe and nightclothes are back in their proper places.

Wendi’s also readied the bath for him. Newt’s grateful. He sighs as he settles into the tub, the warm marble a pleasant surprise. Wendi always takes care to warm the whole bath, he thinks. He takes his time lathering his skin and lets his mind wander. He’s always been self-conscious about his body. Too tall. Too thin. Nevertheless, when Percival placed his hands on Newt’s hips, all of those thoughts floated away. When Percival kissed him...well, Newt’s mind had gone pretty much blank.                 

He lets his fingers skate over his flesh, the warmth of the bath getting to him. He floats, his thoughts drifting to Percival's hands. Percival never grips him too tightly. Just on the right side of firm. He feels safest when Percival's hands are on are on him. He drags his fingers down his chest sighing when they dip below the surface of the warm water. Percival has never touched his thighs, carefully keeps his hands at or above Newt's waist.

Newt's touched himself before of course. His first few cycles were  _ unbearable  _ and it wasn’t until he was older that he figured out he could spend the week in a coma. Before that he’d spent them with one hand shoved in his mouth and the other working furiously between his legs. It had never been about pleasure but about soothing the fire blazing through his veins.

What would Percival's hands feel like here instead, Newt thinks as he slips one finger inside himself. He's tight. It’s been years since he’s done this, he supposes. Percival would have to take his time opening Newt up. Newt shudders at the thought and rolls his hips against his hand. Warmth blooms in his belly slowly and slowly makes its way up his spine. He bites his lip to stifle a noise rising in his throat. 

His climax is a surprise. He barely manages to choke back a shout, the warm water sloshing around him. He collapses back against the edge of the tub, his strings cut. He closes his eyes and breathes.

“Newt? Are you in the bathroom?” Percival’s voice comes from outside the door. “Theseus said you’d gone to bed but you weren’t there.”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Newt croaks out, relief settling in alongside the exhaustion. Percival’s home. Newt takes a few more breaths before pulling himself out of the tub and letting it drain. He drys himself quickly and grabs his robe. His legs shake as he exits the bathroom. Percival’s waiting for him. He looks worn but pleased to see him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I would be late. It’s still chaos at work.”

Newt clasps his robe tight, “I understand. Besides, I was rather occupied.”

“Yes, I saw Theseus asleep on the couch downstairs. I’ll ask Wendi to look after him. After I’ve taken a shower.” Percival lets out a jaw-cracking yawn. 

“He’ll be grateful. As will I,” Newt assures him, “I am glad to know you’re safe though.” 

“I am too. Go on to bed. I’ll be along soon,” Percival leans forward and Newt expects the kiss this time. It’s a sweet thing. 

Newt’s the first to get up the next morning. He’s prepared for the day this time, he thinks. Back in his own bed and more protected than ever. 

He is not, however, prepared for the six bodies strewn across his front yard. He’s only slightly sorry that his screaming wakes the whole house. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Discussion of multiple miscarriages.   
> I started a blog specifically for my writing and reccing of fics. Fill free to stop in for a chat!   
> It's lynn-reads-and-writes on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to visit me at either: 
> 
> [my side tumblr that's dedicated to art and fic.](http://bittlebarnes.tumblr.com/)  
> [my main tumblr that's all fandom junk.](http://monroesherlock.tumblr.com/)


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